


Divided We Stand, United We Fall

by Maddginger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Attempted Murder, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Love, Love/Hate, Marriage Law Challenge, Murder, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Wizengamot, trial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddginger/pseuds/Maddginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione, barred from marrying Ron as planned, is forced to seek a new husband before Umbridge's Marriage law catches up with her</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**November 5th**

Hermione Granger stared ominously at her oatmeal.

It was one of those stares that had the oatmeal been Harry or Ron, it would have run for cover.

However, since it was just oatmeal, it did nothing.

The reason for her dangerous stare was sitting next to the bowl of oatmeal; crumpled and covered in what looked like orange juice.

One would assume that the letter held some sort of bad news.

If you were one of those that assumed that, you would be correct.

She had finally gotten the Official Letter that proclaimed the Ministry's newest idea.

The Marriage Law which stated (amidst much legal jargon) that any Witches or Wizards with Non-Magical Parents were required (by law) to marry someone of Pureblood Status (or half-blood if you  _must_ ) as soon as you came of age. This was, of course, blamed on the fact that the past hundred years' pureblood mania had left the magic community sadly full of squibs, and  _that_ just would not do.

Hermione had read it once, accidentally dropped it into her orange juice glass out of shock, swiftly yanked it back out and then proceeded to reread it, swear loudly, then crumple it and throw it on the table inside her kitchen which was comfortably situated on the west side of her little flat in London.

 _This_  was the reason that she was staring ominously at her rather intimidated looking oatmeal.

If oatmeal could look intimidated.

 _It's all right._  She managed to think  _Ron and I were planning on getting married eventually this just means that it'll happen a bit earlier than we thought._

She could almost picture the expression on his freckled face.

Yes, perhaps this was not as bad as she had thought.

* * *

**November 6th**

"What do you mean she's not in my "options"?" Ron roared at the poor undersecretary, who looked a little flustered.

"Well Mr...."  
"-Weasley!" shouted Ron. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

The small gray-haired woman paled even further as she realized that he  _was_ indeed one of the Golden Trio that had pretty much saved the wizarding world.

"Well sir..." she managed to stutter out, "It says here that one Hermione Granger is not available for you to marry, under the new Wizarding Marriage Restrictions."  
Hermione finally decided to speak up as Ron spluttered incoherently.

"You must have made a mistake, ma'am. You see, we fit the prerequisites. I'm a Human Born Witch, and his parents are both Wizards. It's exactly what the law asked for."

The witch looked at them pitifully.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger. But it says here that you and Mr. Weasley are not eligible to marry. I can give you each a list of options if you like?"

A minute later, she handed them each a scroll filled with names in black.

Ron swore and Hermione scanned.

* * *

**November 19th**

Hermione really should have known that that Toad Woman Umbridge would get them somehow.

As if the bloody marriage law  _wasn't_  enough;  _then_  she had to make sure that Hermione couldn't marry the only person that she would have actually been okay with.

She and Ron had talked it over and realized that unless they wished to risk expulsion from the magical world, they had to go along with the stupid law and its many clauses.

So now, Hermione was left with a dull ache where her heart used to be.

Two weeks ago she had been happy: her whole life ahead of her, a life that would most likely end up with many brown-eyed redheaded children.

Now that was gone and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

The witch sighed angrily and scanned her list of possible candidates.

Fifty percent of her options she had never heard of, the other many percent were wizards in her graduating class. She would rather marry a Blast-Ended-Skrewt than marry most of them.

One was Neville Longbottom.

Although the boy was a wonderful friend Hermione thought that she was perhaps more attracted to Filch.

The other name that she recognized surprised her at the fact that he was even  _on_  the list.

_Draco Malfoy._

Even his name seemed to sneer at her.

As if, he would  _ever_ allow himself to be fettered to a mudblood.

His smirking gray eyes and white blond hair flickered into memory.

The last time she'd seen him was at the Battle Of Hogwarts.

He'd looked awfully lost then; Perhaps a little more at peace than she'd ever seen him.

Yet still extremely misplaced as he stood with his family to one side of the huge party going on- forlorn among the overly loud makeshift celebration of battle won, and memorial of friends lost.

Hermione had  _almost_  gone over to talk to him, but she had been drawn off to one table by fellow rebels and forgotten all about the lost boy.

* * *

**February 4th**

Three months later, she was three months closer to the deadline for her age class, and not a suitor nearer.

Of course, They were all  _nice_ enough.

Nevertheless, there was no connection. There was no good reason for her to marry any of them, and as in most of their cases, they were just out to bag Hermione Granger's fame. Not really  _her._

However, the main reason that kept her from marrying was the fact that she respected  _none_ of them. She needed someone who wouldn't let her bully them into her own way.

That was one of the reasons that she and Ron had gotten together. After their first few years at school, he could pretty much take or leave her instructions, and she had respected him for it.

The bad thing was everyone else seemed to be having no trouble at all finding his or her future mate.

Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged about a months ago, even before the law had come into affect thus ensuring their future happiness; then followed George and Angelina and then finally Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones.

Everyone else was finding someone on his or her list.

Except her.

And Ron… he still hadn't chosen someone. Her old friend was still unsure of what to do now that  _they_ were no longer an option.

Hermione wanted him to find someone; there was no way that it would be her. There were  _no_ loopholes.

A loud swear word emanated from outside her door, pulling her from these slightly melancholic thoughts. Opening the door her mouth dropped open and in stomped a very angry looking Draco Malfoy.

"Come on in." She muttered under her breath.

"Merlin- what the devil  _was_ that, Granger?"

She hid her surprise in derision.

"It's a cat Malfoy, I thought even Slytherins were taught their basic animals. You know 'Meow, I like milk etc.' "

His eyes narrowed and his lips parted to fire another angry retort when, to her surprise, he seemed to think better of it. Carefully, and deliberately he cleared his face into a blank expanse.

"I've come here for a reason, Granger."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I did figure that, unless you came to be insulted, which would be stupid, albeit more likely in your case."  
Only the slightest twitch of his lips gave away the anger that had flared up inside him. Either that or he had actually enjoyed her comment. Which was extremely unlikely.

"I've come about the Marriage Law..."  
Hermione caught herself mid-retort, and frowned.

"What about it?" Although she had an inkling of what this was about.

"You're on my list..."  
"And?"  
His face twisted into a visage resembling a man going to the gallows.

"And well, I've come to formally request your hand in marriage." The last half of the sentence was rushed out, without any spaces between words. It sounded a bit like a tricky spell that he might be attempting to cast on her. Hermione's hand went to her wand instinctively.

However, she had understood.

Hermione actually laughed, thinking that perhaps Harry had blackmailed Malfoy into playing a joke on her.

He merely stared at her, drying up her well of laughter in seconds.

"You're not serious?" she said finally. It was phrased as a question, however it sounded like a statement.

He shrugged and averted his eyes.

"You were the best option on the list."  
"I find that hard to believe, in case you've forgotten,  _I'm a Mudblood_. And a know-it-all and several thousand other things that I can't remember or won't repeat."  
Another awkward shrug.

"You were still the best option."  
Her eyebrow jumped.

"Must have been one terrible list."  
He nodded but made no comment in return, which was  _very_  out of character for him.

"Do you have an answer?" he queried,  
"You're sure you  _want_  me to answer?"

"Just bloody answer me, Granger. I'll not beg or get down on one knee or whatever..."  
She looked as disgusted as he did at that notion. They frowned vaguely at one another then bristled again, waiting for the next volley.

"DO YOU HAVE AN ANSWER?" he yelled finally.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**February 14th**

It was bloody irony that they had set the date for St. Valentine 's Day… Hermione glanced down at her high-heels and winced.

Dressing up for this was probably a mistake.

He'd probably show up in jeans and a t-shirt just to make her look stupid. Or Eager.

At this point, the second seemed dramatically worse.

The thin wizard with a beaked nose stared distractedly at her. He was in charge of Ceremonies of Magical Binding blah blah blah.

In essence, he married witches and wizards. However, this was done in the magical sense of the word. Which was  _much_ more permanent.

"Are you here for a binding ceremony?" he asked suddenly in a surprising baritone for one so frail-looking.

_No,_ She thought rebelliously  _I'm just here in 2-inch heels and a fancy dress that I spent way too much money on, for kicks._

However, seeing, as he probably wouldn't care, she merely said

"Yes, I am."  
He peered around the waiting room, looking for the usual second person needed for the spell.

"You appear to be missing something vital."

He said it very kindly, as if he were worried that she had forgotten.  
She sighed, and felt her head begin to pound.

"He's coming. He said that he'd be late."  
"Ah…"

The skinny wizard turned back to his papers and ignored her.

"Sorry I'm late, Granger..."

The blond coolly strode through the door, looking impeccable as usual. A sharp black suit set his eyes and hair off perfectly, Hermione noted. Feeling a bit annoyed that he always looked completely at ease, and haughtily bored with the world around him. It was at times like these that she was reminded of his relation to the late Sirius Black. Although she'd never been forced to marry Sirius; she'd never wanted to throw the late Mr. Black across the room with a well placed spell either. But there  _was_  that regality about him that was almost tangible…

At least he'd dressed up. She wouldn't look  _too_ ridiculous.

He seemed to take in her appearance with the same amount of surprise that she looked at him.

"It's fine," she replied shortly, standing and only wobbling slightly on her heels.  
Draco automatically shot a hand out to steady her, but it dropped short as she righted herself quickly. He thankfully saw that she had not noticed his almost heroics.

They turned in unison to the wizard that Hermione had been speaking to earlier; he was watching them with slight bemusement.

"Are you two ready now?"  
They both took a deep breath, and nodded.

* * *

"You are hereby bound for a year and a day..."  
"A year and a day?" Draco interrupted before Hermione could. "I think you're a bit confused, Mr. Tylei...as far as I know, marriage is supposed to last a bit longer." His voice was wry and vaguely sarcastic. Hermione wondered if the elderly wizard had noticed Malfoy's tone.  
Mr. Tylei raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Then…you don't know about the clause?"

Hermione frowned.

"What clause?"  
He cleared his throat importantly.

"Because of the recent influx of young witches and wizards in to get married before the Marriage Law expires; there have been some circumstances where the arrangements which were made in haste prove to be completely unlivable."  
 _Like this one?_  thought Hermione unhappily.

"And so a new clause was instituted, for the Witches and Wizards who marry now, they have a year and a day to decide whether or not to make the marriage magically legal. Or to separate."  
"What do you mean magically legal?" asked Draco, his eyes narrowed yet again.

Mr. Tylei coughed uncomfortably into his fist.

"By… well… you know… um…  _consummating_ the relationship."

Both Draco and Hermione looked completely nonplussed at this revelation.  
"You mean to make it legal we have to...?"  
"Yes." finished Tylei. Looking relieved that he didn't have to explain further. "That is actually an old type of binding to prove that the marriage was real. Now it has been instituted to finish the Marriage Binding Spell."

Draco coughed and Hermione stared into space.

"If the marriage is not made legal by the end of the year and the day, then you will be required to find another possible candidate before the deadline, or the Ministry will choose for you."  
Hermione got the mental picture of Umbridge bending gleefully over a parchment full of Argus Filch-Type names.

"We understand." She muttered, and Draco nodded.

"Good..." said Tylei "So glad you understand that all right, although  _clearly_  that won't be a problem for you two, you're both so obviously in love."  
Hermione choked and Malfoy paled. They only made eye contact once, and in their defense, it was completely accidental. They immediately looked away, both fighting the urge to gag.

"Now if you two will make your way out, I have another appointment in a few minutes."

* * *

Hermione sat in the restaurant, thankfully taking off the heels that were slowly murdering her feet.

She stared down at the rather large diamond ring on her finger.

Draco had given it to her without a shred of feeling. He merely handed her the ring box in the restaurant some minutes after they Disapparated out of the Ministry.

His band was a single white gold circlet encrusted with small diamonds and emeralds around the edge.

Hermione's ring could probably pick its teeth with his.

"You will be coming to live at the manor won't you?" he asked very suddenly.

Hermione jerked from admiring her ring and stared at him.

"At your house?"  
He smirked.

"It's your house too now, Granger."  
"I'm not Granger anymore." she retorted.

_Hermione Malfoy_.

It both fascinated and repulsed her.

"So you are," he replied, taking a quick sip of his drink. She did the same.

The pause drug on.

"Your parents live there." Hermione muttered finally. Draco managed a confused frown before he answered.

"Yes. They do. What of it?"  
Her eyes met his evenly.

"They hate me."  
"No they don't."  
She laughed.

"Yes they do. They hate me like you do. For what I am."  
" _Did_." He answered, gray eyes flashing "Like I  _did._ I married you, didn't I?"  
"For convenience sake."  
Another too long pause.

"So what if they do?" he asked.

"I don't want to live in a house with people who blame me for ruining their son's life."

He managed a single angry chuckle.

"They've done well enough by themselves, Granger. I doubt that you'll outdo them."  
Her eyes were drawn to the spot where his Dark Mark was, underneath the black sleeve.

He noticed her stare and smiled mirthlessly.

She blushed and dropped her gaze.

"It still would be awkward."  
He sighed. "I am the lord of the house now. They will do what I say."  
"That doesn't make it any better."  
"You're impossible you know that?"  
She smirked.

"Isn't that why you married me? Or was it for my body?"

The waiter returned a moment later interrupting the conversation.

As soon as they were alone

"I thought girls didn't make inappropriate jokes?"  
Hermione laughed

"Perhaps your pansy Slytherin girls didn't. But in Gryffindor, you fight for your own. Besides, my two best friends were boys, and we were mates at their  _most_  disgusting moments of life. You can imagine that I barely escaped with my naturally naïve disposition."

There was another odd moment where he almost smiled at her wry joke. He used her own tactic and changed the subject.

"Do you really refuse to come live at the Manor?"  
The topic change struck her off guard.

"I don't really  _refuse_. I just don't see how it would be profitable for me to go there when clearly we're going to have to find different mates as soon as the year and the day is up."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, surprised

She laughed.

"Well clearly we're never going to… you know."  
"Have sex?"  
The waiter appeared again with their main entrée. They ordered with only the barest traces of decorum, waiting until the waiter was just out of earshot to continue.

"Yes, have sex," she answered quickly, watching him carefully for a reaction. He made none and sipped his soup.

She wondered if he practiced being cold, or if he were born with a naturally glacial disposition.

"How do you know we wouldn't?" He asked suddenly.  
She glanced up from her salad to his unreadable face. "As if you would sully your private bits with Mudblood. Or even worse, help create a little Half-Blood."  
"Half-Blood's aren't so bad," he mused, ignoring her insinuations. "I've known several that aren't all wonky, including your friend Potter."  
"You don't hate Harry either?" she raised her eyebrow in surprise "Merlin's hat, Malfoy, you've had a change of heart. A year ago and you would have Avada Kedavra'd him in the blink of an eye.  _Without_ orders."  
His eyes dropped to his Dark Mark unconsciously and Hermione immediately regretted her flippant tone.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, twisting the ring on her finger.

"Don't be," he replied without emotion.

And they found that there was nothing more to say.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**February 26** **th**

Hermione stared out of the massive windows onto the monstrous lawns and the wide shimmering lake. Albino Peacocks strutted delicately across the emerald grass in perfect contrast.

She sighed deeply, wishing now that she had refused him more severely.

However, he had said that her job at the ministry did not dictate that she had to live in London. That they lived in the 21st century, she could apparate wherever she wanted and that she should learn to be an adult witch and use her considerable powers.

Maybe it had been the fact that he had called her powers considerable. The slight, offhanded compliment had surprised them both, however neither had commented on it.

He had also added that the main wing of his home was made with the heir and his wife in mind, and there were veiled hints about a huge library.

It had been the temptation of a library that had done it. To explore a library in which she was not restricted. Not to mention the countless treasures that must be hidden in a Pureblood family's library.

A place to store her books that wasn't boxes piled around her tiny flat. She winced at the memory of him entering her apartment while she had been packing up.

They had decided the day before that she would at least  _try_ living at the Manor.

 _To see the library._ Her mind had muttered as a last resort

* * *

**A week prior**

**February 18th**

"Granger?" He called through the closed doorway. She was surprised that he had had the decency to Apparate outside the door, rather than right next to her as the twins always had.

"In here," she responded automatically, magicking her bed and nightstand into her wonderful bottomless bag.

He stepped through the sadly empty apartment (she couldn't help it, she was a witch on a budget, and she'd only had the flat for a few months.) and into her bedroom.

"You know you could have had some Moving-Wizards worry about this." He pointed out, keeping his white face devoid of emotion.

Hermione had noticed that he was much more stoic since the final battle. His face had never quite regained the color that it had had before their sixth year. He reminded her slightly of Snape: Cold and calculated, with a steaming cauldron of anger and emotion just hidden below the surface.

They had both been slimy gits. Yet another thing in common.

Yet, Snape had been forgiven most of his git-iness after Harry had told her about his obviously tragic past.

Draco however, just seemed older, and surlier. But still a complete berk to the rest of the world.

Hermione had to admit to herself though, that if the Potions Master had lived through the battle he would have most likely continued to be disagreeable for the rest of his life. Perhaps even made  _more_  disagreeable by the fact that he was now a hero.

Perhaps Draco deserved some consideration as well.

"Too expensive," she said bad-temperedly, ignoring such thoughts. "Why pay an arm and a leg for something I could do myself?"  
"I don't think anyone charges body parts anymore Granger-"  
Hermione's eyebrows moved with expression as she realized that she who she was talking to.

"It's a Muggle expression, Malfoy, it means… to pay an exorbitant amount of money." She shook her head as she spoke, clearly focusing on the packing, rather than the conversation at hand.

"Ah," he replied, looking exactly like his father at that moment. Hermione resisted the urge to vomit "Anyway, you have the money now to do whatever you want. It's your money too"  
She grimaced. "It's your family's money."  
"You're my  _wife," h_ e said, and there was finality in his voice, along with the steely note that came with impeccable breeding and the fact that he was rarely disobeyed. "That alone gives you status as one of the family."  
A family who hated her? It was almost as bad as a husband and wife who referred to each other by their respective last names.

Hermione, feeling slightly uncomfortable with this turn of conversation, turned back to her packing.

"Have you told Weasley and Potter?"  
"About what?" she asked, concentrating on putting her entire wardrobe in at once.

He scoffed and gestured between the two of them in a gesture that, were he Muggle-Born, said  _Duh…_

"Oh," said she, finally registering what was going on. " _That_."

She said  _that_ in a small thoughtful voice that made him angry.

"Well? Have you?"

"No. I haven't…actually."

"Embarrassed of your Slytherin husband, dear Gryffindor?" he inquired snidely; she could feel the anger emanating off him. "Worried that perfect Potter won't approve?"  
Hermione's eyebrows knit together in a look of extreme anger.

Let us just say, that had Draco been Ron or Harry, he would have known to dive for cover.

"You're not exactly a catch yourself Malfoy, let's look at your track record: ex-death eater, dirty little brown-noser, oh let's not forget your stint as king of Umbridge's pets, wannabe assassin, bully, and last but  _certainly_ not least Slytherin GIT." She ticked each name off on her fingers, watching as he stiffened and his eyes narrowed.

"YOU THINK  _YOU HAVE IT BAD, I'M SADDLED WITH A SODDING MUDBLOOD FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!"_

They both knew that their respective words had struck nerves. Hermione bit her bottom lip in an angry tick. Draco did nothing. His lessons with Snape had bled him of all such weaknesses. His godfather had told him that it would keep him and his mind the safest.

They glowered at each other across the room, fingers twitching in want of the comforting touch of a wand. They resisted. But barely.

Hermione finally threw down the box of books she had been packing, throwing a book across the room. Draco watched this in surprise, he knew her well enough to know that she didn't throw books. She revered books.

"You know what?" She hissed angrily. " _Fine,_ I'll tell them.  _Tonight._ "

He seemed surprised that she had agreed, and so said nothing when she stood and pulled her old, patched coat on and swept out the door.

As the door slammed behind her, and the small apartment went silent, the air seemed to rush out of him. He was suddenly  _just_ an 18 year-old boy.

Draco Malfoy sat down on the only stitch of furniture left in the apartment, and placed his head in his hands.

* * *

"YOU AND MALFOY?"

She had prepared herself in advance for this onslaught of surprise and adamancy.

Harry and Ron stared in shock, doing excellent fish impressions while their mouths opened and closed in almost unanimity.

"You  _do_ realize that he was a Death Eater?" reminded Ron

"And practically my archenemy?" added Harry

"Not to mention a  _Slytherin?_ " She would have found the unison hilarious had it been a different situation.

"Yes." She replied calmly. "I do know that. You remember I  _have_  been conscious for the past 18 years."

"Don't tell me he's " _changed"_ or whatever, I won't believe it," Ron's voice was almost as high pitched as a girl's at this point.  
"He hasn't." Hermione replied calmly. "He's the same as he ever was. Just  _older_ I guess."

"Older??" Ron screeched, his tone finally reaching to the realm of bats and dogs  
"Ron..." Harry placed a restraining hand on one old friend, and met the eyes of his other.

Ron quieted instantly, but she could tell that he was angry still.

"We thought you hated him." Harry stated quietly. "All other things aside..."

Hermione who knew these two boys as good as she knew herself, knew that this was difficult for Harry to say, especially about Malfoy. "He was horrid to you during school, how do you know that he won't be the same once you're married."

 _Once I'm married._  Hermione thought with a chuckle…  _and I thought that this couldn't get any worse_

"About that," she answered falteringly. "We've sort of… already gotten married."  
Ron and Harry just stood there - both seemed stunned. Hermione almost laughed again.

_Then the words started, and for your sake dear reader, I will not recount any of those words, as they were inappropriate for most humans, animals, and everything in between._

Harry calmed more quickly than Ron, the redheaded moved to the wall and punched it hard; the wall did not respond favorably and he began to swear again.

They ignored him.

"Hermione." Harry said, looking seriously into her face. " _Why_ would you do something like this? It's  _Malfoy_ for pities' sake...of course that would all mean nothing if I thought that you actually liked him."

Hermione tried to think through what was going on,  _why_ she had agreed to marry him.

"He provides freedom, and the ability to get away from that  _idiotic_ Marriage Law; he was one of the few options that wouldn't expect… certain things from the relationship."

Harry nodded, beginning to understand her reasons. Although he couldn't imagine being locked into a relationship was in any way like that.

"What about the Year and a Day Clause."

She sighed, running her hands through her thick hair.

"We're not sure yet. That was…. Unexpected."  
Harry watched her move restlessly, staring in worry.

"Hermione, you  _will_  tell me if you ever need help."

The young witch nodded, amazed at how much he reminded her of Dumbledore.

His green eyes twinkled happily and yet still stayed sober. Hermione was always the Yin, and Ron was always the Yang with Harry as that one spot in the middle, where the two met.

He was their anchor.

"Yes." She laughed, pulling her completely unworried front off. "I promise I'll tell you. But Harry..."

She seized his hand leaning forward. "You promise to come visit me at the Manor? Bring Ron, please, I don't know how many friends I'll have in there, with the DEATH TO THE MUDBLOODS and all that."

Her laugh was nervous.

"Hermione, I'll be there as soon as I can." He hugged her tightly. Ron had finally calmed down enough to hear the end of the conversation.

"Mione," he said tersely. "If that blond weasel so much as  _pulls your hair_ , I'll kill him. You know I will." His fair face was flushed with anger and high spirits.

"Yes I do Ronald, but what if he trips and falls into me..."  
Harry laughed and Ron scratched his head.

"You know this would be much easier if we would have just gotten married after the Battle."

She laughed, ignoring his only way to provide some sort of help.

"Thank you, Ron. I'll be sure to warn Malfoy about his impending doom should he accidently hurt me."  
Ron shrugged sheepishly and smiled his uncomfortable half-smile.

"We're with you Hermione," Harry continued finally. "Even if your husband  _is_ a bloody snake,"  
Hermione laughed and pulled them both close. Then saying her farewells, she slipped into the night.

* * *

The apartment was empty when she returned, her keys sat on the bare counter, a large cardboard box stood next to it emblazoned with the image of a Wizard with his hand in the air. Underneath it said: Benty Brothers Moving Wizards

"We can move anything," she read aloud, and then turned to the note.

_11:30-tomorrow morning_

The words lit across the parchment with a boldness that was difficult to write. His script was neat and precise, and slightly spiky.

_PS I have arranged a room for you at the Leaky Cauldron for the night; I will meet you at your room tomorrow morning as aforementioned._

Hermione reread the note twice more, frowning deeply.

Could it be that Malfoy had done something nice for once in his existence? Or was he just taking over her life for some reason only known to him?

The second reason seemed much more likely since she doubted that he had ever done something unselfish in his life. Nevertheless, this was extremely uncharacteristic of him.

Thinking that it would be much easier to muddle through this dilemma of character when she wasn't so bloody tired, she grabbed the box and her keys and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

"Um, I have a reservation for one room for Hermione Granger?" she asked the half-goblin clerk, who looked vaguely irritated about being talked to in the first place.

He glanced at the register.

"There is no reservation under that name, ma'am."

Maybe this was the reason that he'd called her here, steal her bed and makes her look like an idiot.

There was no chance of her getting a room this late, everyone knew the Leaky Cauldron was full every night except All Hallow's Eve and that was the only day in the Wizarding World where everything was closed.

"Oh," she replied feeling rather disappointed for some reason. The clerk eyed her in some concern and curiosity…

Then it hit her.

"Hermione Malfoy," she said suddenly and somewhat loudly. A wizard or two turned around to stare, everyone knew the name of Malfoy. But none had heard of a Hermione Malfoy.

Hermione Granger on the other hand was known throughout their world. They studied her and she wondered if there was a chance that they would recognize her from the plethora of terrible pictures of the Golden Trio that had been on the front pages of the Daily Prophet in those weeks following the final battle.

"Yes, here you are." He handed her a dainty golden key, with a bit more respect "Reginald here will get you the bags and lead you up to the Suite." He gestured to a spotty young man who looked about her age.

Hermione stopped mid-turn.

"The Suite?"  
The clerk nodded gravely.

"Yes ma'am. It's the best room in the inn."

"And you're sure it's mine."  
The clerk nodded.

"Yes ma'am, your Mr. Malfoy was in here earlier and he requested that room specifically."  
"Oh," she said again, feeling very,  _very_ confused about him.

* * *

**February 19** **th**

The knock at the door surprised her, even though it shouldn't have.

He'd said he would be there at 11:30. And he was here, on the dot.

"Hello Granger." He said imperiously, ducking slightly to get through the door, it wasn't a short door it was just that he was very tall, Taller than she'd remembered.

"Hi." She responded automatically.

"Are you ready to leave?" He asked, after she said nothing further.

"Where are we going?" She asked, finally finding her tongue. Hermione wasn't one to be ordered about her life like a stupid child.

"Madame Malkin's." He replied instantly, watching her face intently for a reaction.

"Why?"

These single word questions were odd for her, he knew her, and she loved to talk more than he had loved to make people miserable.

Perhaps they'd both changed.

"I thought you might want to pick some things up before going out to the Manor."

"You just assumed I would?"  
"You're a girl aren't you?  
"How observant Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes and shut the door, sensing that this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought.

"What is the problem?"

"I don't like you just taking control of my life; you're my husband, not my master."

"I would never presume so much."

"Wouldn't you?"  
They stood again, the haphazard threats lying between them like bodies on a battlefield. This fight had not been loud or filled with anger.

No fangs and claws, just hissing and growling.

Lion and Serpent to the last  
"You know, we don't always have to fight like this."

Hermione smirked.

"I don't think we could handle it if we didn't."

"So do you want to go or not?"  
A half-laugh escaped her throat.

"Of course. I was just waiting for you to ask nicely."


	4. Chapter 4

**March 6th**

Hermione drug her gaze from the surreal beauty in front of her and turned her eyes back to the letter she was writing to Harry. She had already sent a letter to Ron, assuring him that she was being fed regularly and that Malfoy hadn't made any advances on her. She had smiled happily at the unbridled worry in his letter.

Harry however had been a bit more adult in his questions, he wondered what Malfoy's parents had been like, whether or not  _they_ were being unkind or haughty.

They had been… strained.

* * *

_**February 22nd** _

Hermione and Draco had apparated just inside the large wrought iron gates; there was no evidence that months prior this had been the nest of the Dark Lord.

Hermione had been slightly taken aback at the difference that was there. Of course, there was still the feeling of old money. Of Pureblood.

"Are you coming?" her husband asked arrogantly. He had affected a face of irritation, but in fact, he had enjoyed her face of amazement and slight rapture at the sight of his ancestral home. Enjoyed the light as it played across eyes that he had always regarded as unremarkable and commonplace.

Now they looked almost golden like honey. Her think hair hung in a braid down her back, little wispy tendrils coming loose around her face. Her dress made her look older, more mature, and the blue suited her perfectly.

She had turned from her taking in of the grounds and had caught him staring.

"Something on my face?" she asked, frowning.

Draco Malfoy was caught off guard for the first time in a long time.

"Um… no. I was just making sure you were… presentable."  
Hermione blushed and her frown deepened, and then disappeared as if she had wiped the expression off.

"And what did you decide?" sheasked woodenly, slightly disappointed. She thought that she looked rather good today, as this was a new dress from Madame Malkin's.

It had cost much more than she would ever have spent before. But at her objections, he had merely waved them aside and told Madame Malkin herself to package it along with everything else that they had looked at.

"Perfect," he uttered, his back turned to her, he heard her stop moving behind him and hurriedly added, "As you ever will be."

 _That was more like it._ She thought, her thoughts calming and they had moved into the house.

It hadn't really been as bad as she'd thought. Lucius had regarded her with a sharp gaze and few words. He looked as disdainful as ever, but there was a hint of defeat and weariness behind his arrogant gray eyes. Hermione had noticed that everyone that had lived through the last battle had a  _look._  Whether Good or Death Eater. It was a look of innocence lost.

Or perhaps, perceptions lost.

Draco's mother looked frail and old, even though her beauty was striking. She was kind, if shallow, to her new daughter-in-law. They had awkwardly embraced and had not spoken about the rushed wedding and tactfully ignored the elephant in the room, that the marriage law was the only reason that they were stuck with her.

Mrs. Malfoy complimented her gown and Hermione had dimpled, automatically thanking her.

Narcissa led the way upstairs making small talk with Hermione while Draco and Lucius talked of business matters.

"This will be your wing," the older woman said, smiling faintly and nostalgically. "The master suite is at the end of the hall, and there are 12 other rooms that you may use for anything, including guests,"

The rooms were beautiful, tastefully decorated in a variety of styles. Hermione was overawed and commented on the decorations.

Narcissa (showing some of the happy energy that she had had before Lord Voldemort had taken control of her life and family all those years ago) happily discussed the decorations and had informed Hermione that she would have to decorate the Master Suite to hers and Draco's tastes as soon as they got settled in as it was the tradition of the family.

Hermione had almost said that she and Draco would not be sharing a bedroom when she caught Draco's glance, he had momentarily looked up from his discussion, his fleeting look said nothing.

"Thank you Mrs. Malfoy," she said kindly and smiled.

"Call me Narcissa, dear," the blonde woman replied and then grabbed her husband's arm and swept out of the long hall, closing the door that secluded that wing from the rest of the house. Hermione found her things unpacked in the master bedroom, the window was long and wide, showing the beautiful grounds at their best. It was perhaps the best view in the house.

Draco entered.

"I'll get my stuff out," Hermione said quickly.

"No. I'll take the adjoining room. You're the bride, and you are new to this house. Take this room." He expected to be agreed with, and as much as it bugged Hermione to be ordered about, this view was almost worth it.

"And Granger-" His face twisted slightly, as if he were having some sort of inner battle with himself. "Thank..." He steadied himself. "Thank you for not... offering information to my parents."

* * *

**June 3rd**

Therefore, a week and then a month went by in Malfoy Manor. Lucius was almost never at home, or in the same room as Hermione when he  _was_  home.

Narcissa was surprisingly kind, and Hermione passed her days by exploring the grounds and the house.

That night, dinner passed in slight discomfiture, as usual.

Hermione excused herself as soon as was prudent.

She slipped through the huge doorway, stopping as she heard a voice rise in a familiar drawl.

"Really Draco, wasn't there  _anyone_ else that you could have chosen?"  
"Father."  
"No Draco, I mean, even  _Mudbloods_  are occasionally attractive, but you have managed to find the  _only_ complete exception."

"Father." Draco's voice was filled with cold steel.

"She is utterly  _plain."_  
"Be quiet, father!" Draco shouted, his gray eyes blazing. "She is my  _wife,_ and you will treat her as such. "

"Such vehemence over your little Mudblood? Do I detect attraction, maybe even,  _regard_  in my only son's voice?"  
Hermione listened with bated breath, unable to see Draco pull back, his gray eyes veiled again.

"That is irrelevant, Father. But I will know if you are unkind to her. And you  _will_  watch your tongue, unless your only wish is to ruin my life as thoroughly as you have ruined your own. " Draco watched his father recoil at the insult, and continued. "She is a Malfoy now, that used to mean something, even to you. I am hoping that she will bring something into this house, something that has been bred out of our family." Draco turned to his mother. "Thank you" and they both knew as to what he was talking about.

Hermione ran upstairs and into her room, hearing her husband stomp to his adjoining bedroom.

Nothing had prepared her for his actions. In all reality, he should have mocked her along with his parents.

Nevertheless, he had defended her. Praised her even, in his own roundabout way.

What was this supposed to mean? What  _did_ it mean?

* * *

**June 7th**

Later that week she awoke in the night, unable to sleep with all the thoughts in her mind and confusion in her heart, she silently padded down the dark halls, years of sneaking about with Ron and Harry at Hogwarts giving her practice

At some point during her wanderings, Hermione discovered the passageway that led to the lower levels of the Manor.

Something, some memory sparked in her mind. She frowned into the darkness, trying to remember what would not come.

Then it hit her, a time in her life that she had locked away for the terribleness of it.

" _CRUCIO!" roared_ _the cruel woman, her eyes dancing with twisted merriment._

_Hermione screamed in terror as immeasurable pain rocketed through every bone, every muscle, and every pore._

_It was the kind of pain that drove every thought from her head until the only thing left was the hurt and anguish, living through it, if she could even do that._

_It stopped as sudden as it came, and there was that trilling laugh again._

" _Is the know-it-all crying?" She asked in her baby voice, running a black fingernail under Hermione's eyes and through her tears. The nail was sharp, and bit deep into the soft flesh along Hermione's cheekbone._

_Bellatrix smiled happily and licked the blood from her nail._

" _Tell me where you got the sword, mudblood!"_

_Hermione's lungs felt like they were on fire but she managed to gasp out her answer._

" _We… FOUND it!"_

" _OH no, little baby needs a spanking! CRUCIO!" She yelled again, twirling her wand and cackling madly as Hermione's scream rose to the ceiling,_

Hermione fell to the floor sobbing as memories fled her, leaving her alone and broken, unable to stop the fear and ghostly pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

Strong arms encircled her, and she panicked and began to fight violently.

"Granger!" the terse voice said into her ear. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, STOP IT!"

"We found it!" she pleaded into the dark. " _Please stop!_ " She struck out in the dark unseeing and unfeeling except for what was in her mind, She caught Draco under the eye, continually begging for the pain to end. He growled angrily and tightened his grip.

"Bloody, hold still,  _Hermione_. Stop, it's okay now," he soothed into her ear, feeling her quiet almost immediately at her name.

"We  _found_ it," she wept into his shirt, clinging to him in a fear-laden grip. Without thinking, he ran his hand along her hair, crooning soft comforts into her ear, feeling her sob into his shirt, the hotness of her tears onto his skin. "Don't let her hurt me." Came her muffled voice. "Please don't let her hurt me."

 _Merlin she's shaking._ Draco thought, pulling the light jacket that he was wearing and slid it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her small frame and could be easily tucked around her.

He felt revulsion at the terrors that she had gone through, remembering the pain that his aunt had put her through.

 _He_ had done nothing when she was being tortured to death, the always-strong Hermione Granger was allowing him to hold her to his chest.

"I won't," he said surely, his lips touching her ear. "They won't hurt you ever again. I promise."  
Over an hour went by as he held her and let her cry against him, but she never questioned his promise again.

When she seemed to run out of tears, he moved and picked her up easily, carrying her up the master bedroom and placing her gently on the bed. Her heinously ugly cat watched him impassively, and for the first time did not hiss. He was always a little unnerved by the cat, as it always seemed to be more sentient than a cat should be.

Nevertheless, it did nothing, glancing at its mistress and then the pale blond standing next to her. With a miniscule sniff, it curled up once and sat with its paws tucked under its chest. Watching him critically, as if daring him to try to mess with her.

Moving to walk away, he heard her whimper slightly in response to their sudden lack of contact. He sighed, pulled one of the large overstuffed chairs to the edge of the bed and slid his hand into hers. She quieted immediately and dropped into a deeper sleep, her face relaxing into a dreamlike expression.

He sat and played her terror struck face in his mind, knowing that she should hate him. And against his will, he fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione's face felt stiff, her eyelids were grimy and hard. She remembered very little of the night before, only that she had gotten up in the night, then, the painful memories came.

However, this time without taking her over. She had not known that they would affect her thus.

It was okay now. She was safe - she was safe.

There was hardly any light in her room; the drapes were still pulled tightly shut. The fire snapped and crackled warmly across the vicinity. She shifted slightly, feeling the unfamiliar soft leather wrapped around her and the warm press of a hand in hers.

Her eyes darted to the blond head leaned up against the back of the large overstuffed chair next to the bed. Then to her hand still tightly clasped in his much larger one.

She was only allowed a moment of thought before his wide gray eyes flicked open, tightening as they fell upon her pale face. His hand was removed from around hers instantly.

"Feeling better, Granger?"

She stared blearily at him, taking in the large blackish bruise around his eye.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, eagerly avoiding the fact that he  _may_ have been kind to her.

"You went downstairs," he said with a slight sneer. " _Why_ were you downstairs in the middle of the night?"  
She closed her eyes painfully, feeling the aftereffects of great emotional strain.

"I couldn't sleep."  
Her voice was so small; it grated on his emotions forcing him to put up more walls or else actually deal with what had happened the prior night

"You didn't know that that was where..."

"No," she replied tearfully, hating herself for the weakness in her heart.

"You shouldn't have gone around the house without a guide," he replied, sounding harsher than he'd meant to.

"I know," she assented demurely,  _very_ unlike her. He watched as tears seeped out from under her eyelids.

"It's alright," he replied instantly, wanting to keep her from crying anymore as it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. "Just don't do it again."  
She nodded, still without opening her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked suddenly.

"I found you after you…" His words dropped off, his eyes broke contact with her teary face.

"How did I get up here?"

"I brought you up."  
Her mind wanted to dwell on this tidbit of information, but she forced herself to move on

"And you stayed?"  
"You wouldn't let me leave." The derisive tone had slunk back into his voice.

Hermione almost wished she could blush, just to relieve the shame that flooded through her.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"Don't be," he commanded instantly. "You couldn't help it."

A long pause intermittent with sound from the fireplace, and of Crookshank's purr as he cleaned himself.  
"Did I do that?" She asked abruptly; he found her eyes opened and on him once again.

He stared at her nonplussed until she lifted her hand and pointed at the swelling around his eye. He lifted his hand to his eye and winced when his fingers encountered the damage.

"You couldn't help it," he repeated, feeling the extent of the problem, which was over an inch around his eye. It looked like a small black sun.

"It was so  _real," s_ he whispered to no one in particular.

He stood and made his way to the door, knowing that with dawn came the responsibilities of life. Not that he wished he could stay with her… but there were some times in life when he wished that he could revert to the self-serving days of his youth. Where the world was black and white, his father was always right, Potter and Co. was the enemy and those who weren't his friends were his enemies.

Apparently, life in itself enjoys throwing all such perceptions out the window and Draco Malfoy was one of those left to reinvent his worldview. After 18 brief years, he didn't know what to think anymore.

His family – which had once been the most powerful and influential Pureblood unit in the Magical World - had been reduced in two short years to outcasts, traitors and was hated by most for their ties to the Dark Lord's failed return. He was a forced and un-official exile.

Draco suddenly knew how the minorities of the wizard world had once felt. He at once pitied his former teacher and werewolf Remus Lupin.

Draco had secretly enjoyed his lessons thoroughly, he had been one of the only teachers who had actually taught something during their Defense Against Dark Arts classes, but the prejudice instilled in him had prevented him from enjoying the classes like he should have. Now he sort of understood what the man had gone through his entire life, except Professor Lupin had done nothing to deserve the hate he was given.

Draco did.

The young Malfoy did not know what he would do to help his family name and he knew that he would not attempt to right all of his wrongs. There was too much for that, and he was quite certain that he was not a hero.

A villain and a coward perhaps, but he was no hero.

 _A cowardly villain_. His mind mocked.  _You couldn't even do that right.  
_ Nevertheless, he would attempt to follow the example of the only man that he had ever trusted, perhaps the man that he truly considered his father. Do perhaps what he could, to make his way in the world in the only way he knew how.

Severus Snape had been a brave man, the only true hero among his fellow cowards.

And looking over at the girl lying on the bed, his  _wife._ He knew what he should do.


	5. Chapter 5

_June 8th_

Harry Potter sat in his small cubicle. Auror in Training was a strenuous task for anyone, even The-Boy-Who-Lived.

 _Though I may not live through this, h_ e thought ruefully.

An owl fluttered through the throngs of people and landed on his tiny desk.

It was not an owl he recognized, and it imperiously stretched out a snow-white leg.

 _Privately Owned, h_ e noted, not realizing how effective his Auror Training had been _._

He didn't recognize the script, whipping out his wand he tested it for various curses, hexes and other such lovely additions.

Though they were living in times of relative peace, an Auror could never be too careful. Especially an Auror who had destroyed Voldemort.

Nothing happened, and he slid his fingers beneath the expensive parchment, ripped away the thick seal, which was silver with a deep green outline. An ominous portent at that.

Harry read it swiftly, still wary of the obviously Slytherin origins, and then set it in his lap. Eyes unseeing as his mind raced uncomfortably.

His Trainer walked by, and Harry looked up, the unable to wipe the expression of surprise off his face.

"Excuse me Sir? I'm going to need to take my time off…"

* * *

**June 10th**

Ron, Harry and Ginny stood inside the main hall of Malfoy Manor. Ginny was in slight awe. Harry and Ron were slightly uncomfortable with the fact that they weren't being led through into the house at Wandpoint.

"Welcome."

They all glanced into the inner recesses of the hall to where a familiar blond head appeared in the dusk of the waning light.

Truth be told, Malfoy looked slightly uncomfortable, but he bore it well under a calm mask.

Harry nodded and Ron grunted noncommittally. Ginny, being the woman that her mother had taught her to be, smiled genially and moved forward. Harry moved with her cautiously.

"I will skip the usual pleasantries, you trust me about as much as you trust any ex-Death Eater. Nevertheless, I will lead you up to your friend, since this is why you're here."

Ginny and Ron immediately ran to Hermione, who was shocked and delighted to see them on her stroll across the grounds. Harry, however, hung back.

"I was surprised to receive your letter." Harry said conversationally to his old nemesis.

Draco showed no reaction.

"I felt it necessary."

"Why?"

Draco had decided not to answer, but when confronted with those sharp, green eyes, he found himself unable to ignore the question. The man in front of him spoke with wisdom and gravity that belied his barely eighteen years.

"She needed you," he said suddenly, glancing at his wife who was conversing animatedly with her old friends.

"Are you so sure of her needs?"  
Draco glared irritably at Harry, showing some of the old pique that had kept their relationship so distant in the past.

"I may not know her like you do, Potter, but I  _do_  know her well enough to see that at least."

Harry took in the paleness of Hermione.

"What happened?" he asked, determining not to pass judgment until he had heard the whole story.

Well, At least not to  _kill_ him until he had heard the whole story.

Draco took a deep breath and circled his lips with his fingers: a fidget that reminded Harry of their late Potions Professor.

"She has been restless here," he started. "And I had told her to explore anywhere she wished. One night she found the cellars where you were held during the Dark Lord's occupation of my home,"  
"I understand," Harry interrupted, his eyes sliding shut in sympathetic pain and memories.  
Draco realized that he truly did.

They were silent for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you think this will make her happy?"  
Harry turned to Malfoy, the blonde's voice seemed unsure, as if he was dubious as to the approach of the happiness of humans other than himself.

"I didn't think you  _did_ happiness, Malfoy."  
Malfoy glanced at Harry. His gray eyes as unreadable as his mentor's eyes had been.

"Do you think that I should let her leave?"  
Harry was surprised by this question, but he refrained from showing it.

"Why would you do that?"

"I won't keep her here against her will, Potter. She would not do well in a cage of Slytherin making."  
Harry watched her talk with Ron and Ginny, taking in the frequent glances that she sent toward Draco and himself.

"I think that if you want her to like it here, you should attempt to make it a place that she will like."

Draco digested these words.  
"You don't think that she will hate it just because of the memories? Because of the past?"

Harry felt that he was asking not just about the house, but about himself as well.

Harry watched the pale blond beside him with interest.

"You are worried about how she will accept you as her husband."

It was a statement, not a question.

Draco turned to his old nemesis, gray eyes meeting green.

"I do not know how things will work out, owing to the newest addition to the Marriage Law."

"And you think that this marriage will last that long?"  
The steely look returned

"It will if I can help it."  
The small chuckle that issued from Harry's mouth was once again reminiscent of their old headmaster's.

Draco wondered if he realized whom he was emulating.

"Then I applaud you, Draco Malfoy. For attempting something that all others thought impossible. Besides, between the two of us, I didn't think that Ron would like being married to her after the initial happy bubble wore off. You, however, I believe that you will give Hermione a run for her money."  
For that instant, Draco could almost imagine them friends throughout all those years of school,

"But if you hurt her, I'll kill you without a thought. And you  _do_ know that I can."  
His veiled reference to the elder wand caused Draco to blink suddenly, and the sudden thought that the innocent boy of their youth had somehow lost his innocence along the way.

Innocence Lost.

That should be the bloody theme of his life.

Of all their lives.

"I'll do my best," he responded sharply.

Harry laughed and pushed his glasses up his nose in a relaxed manner.

"Let us hope then, that your best is good enough."  
Then Harry moved toward his best friends in the world, leaving the Slytherin alone.

* * *

"What were you and Draco talking about?"  
Hermione found it easier to call him by his first name when he was not within hearing distance. In addition, it made things less strained if her friends thought that she and her husband were actually getting along.

Sort of.

Harry stared out at nothing, enjoying the silence of the sitting room that they had moved to after their initial greeting on the lawns.

"You, actually," he intoned quietly, pretending that he didn't see the look of shock that jumped across her face.

"Was he complaining?" she asked with false brightness, attempting to cover the insatiable curiosity that suddenly consumed her.

"No. He wanted to know if you were happy here."  
Hermione frowned at this unexpected answer.

"And what did you say?"  
"I told him that you were undecided." His eyes flicked to her for an instant. "Which you are, aren't you?"  
"What did he say?"

Harry considered the conversation that had occurred just a few hours ago, picking and choosing what to say about it.  
"He told me- He told me that he would not allow you to be caged. And I think, I think that he spoke from experience, and quite truthfully."  
For a moment, Hermione imagined him, caged and pale amongst the powerful men and women who had etched his life from his birth, and it tore at her to understand a little part of him.

"And, what did you say?"

He shrugged indifferently.

"I gave him my blessing and the vague disclaimer that I would kill him if he hurt you."  
She gave a startled chirping laugh.

"Emotionally or physically?"  
"I didn't specify."  
"How sly of you."

"It's the Auror training," he informed her confidently, forcing her to grin at him like old times.

* * *

**_July 3rd_ **

They stayed for two weeks, two glorious weeks in which Hermione showed them every inch of her new home, with almost pride. Almost.

Draco Malfoy told his father to go on holiday or something. Told him to get out of the house because he knew that his father still bore old grudges. His father had angrily left. His mother had anxiously watched her son and her husband, and then followed the elder Malfoy out the door.

Draco generally tried to show the effort.

It would be a lie to say that it was not uncomfortable for him to be on the periphery of a friendship that transcended normal human bonds. Although Ginny Potter seemed to manage quite nicely and  _she_ was only married a member of the Golden Trio as well.

Harry was cautious but surprisingly kind to his old nemesis. He seemingly chose to bear no ill will to the boy who had attempted to make his life a living hell.

Ron was suspicious. However, that was to be expected.

Draco had married the woman that he had been planning to marry. Draco had to fight the urge to charm the redhead's pillows to sing "Weasley is our king", just to give him reason to complain. He managed to resist, which had the ultimately desired effect on the redhead, as it seemed to irk the Weasley boy that Draco was not giving him reason to curse him into next week.

For peace's sake, though, he resisted, and they passed a moderately tranquil fortnight.

* * *

**_July 5th_ **

The witch was listless when they left, missing Ron's constant humor and Harry's foolish antics. For all that he was sometimes the wisest eighteen year-old that she knew, he could act like a complete idiot at other times. All she could figure was that he'd kind of missed out on the usual relaxed childhood and was now making up for it.

Her husband had made an effort to at least pretend that he was part of their group, although Ron said, he only stuck around to make sure that they didn't steal anything. Hermione remained painfully aware of him any time that he was near them, watching with his impassive gray eyes and only occasionally adding to the conversation, as was true aristocratic form.

She was rather unsure of his response to their general stupidity.

Hermione couldn't lie to herself and say that she didn't feel almost immediately bereft when the last dismal crack of their apparitions wore off.

All three had promised to visit again as soon as they could.

She however, did not know if that would be soon enough.

* * *

**August 14th**

"I've something to show you."

He had once again crept up on her with ease.

"Bloody – Malfoy - do you  _ever_ warn people?"  
"What?"

"You've sneaked up on me at least forty times today."  
"Exaggeration." His gray eyes were shimmering with something that reminded her vaguely of excitement and humor.  
She felt slightly enraged by his tone.

It had been a long and terrible day at the Ministry, without thinking she snapped off the first thing that came into her mind

"Do they just teach you to be freakishly sneaky at Death Eater School?"  
The easy-going light in his eyes sharpened, she felt immediate remorse.

"I'm sorry. That was a bit rude of me..."  
"Why feel bad? It's not prudent to waste apologies on a Death Eater."

He swept away from her, placing the small object that he'd had in his hands on her in-table as he left the room.

Hermione took several deep breaths, calming the unprovoked anger in her heart, and then the odd feeling of regret; and walked slowly across the room, fingering the thick tome on the table.

_Hogwarts: A History_

It was an original edition and perhaps one of the rarest books in the wizarding world. It must have been like hunting Nargles to find that book.

Her gaze was drawn to the calendar on her wall, attempting to think of why he would give her something like this.

It was August 14th .

Six months to the day since they had gotten married in that tiny cramped office in the Ministry.

_He remembered?_

 


	6. Chapter 6

Months passed, Harry, Ron and Ginny visited at least once a month. Only staying for a few days at a time. In that time, she and her husband had become almost, friends.

No, never friends. But perhaps…

She could never think of the right word. She did not think that there was a word for them.

Married. Although she still didn't quite understand  _that_. Even after over six months of marriage.

They were no longer completely awkward in each other's presence and they could have conversations without completely wanting to kill each other. Hermione, slightly unnerved with this change in temperature, found herself absorbed with work. Or maybe she wasn't quite comfortable with the slow change to almost-friends and she immersed herself in her new job and attempted to ignore the slowly and sometimes fast approaching year-and-a-day deadline. They still hadn't talked about it.

She still hadn't found the library. She assumed that he'd been lying about it. Or else she was just completely blind and had missed it. Although, ever since that night in the basement, she had avoided exploring the house altogether. After that night, Malfoy Manor had suddenly become a darkly sinister place. Somehow, she knew that their past had ruined their future. If they had ever had a future in the first place.

* * *

**October 28th**

She hadn't meant to, to overhear him.

He was talking to Blaise Zabini who had come to spend a few days at the manor. They hadn't spoken to one another in days, he had been involved in whatever he was _always_ involved in and she was having a rough week at work. Not to mention things had been a bit cool ever since their confrontation.

"They rejected me again," her husband was saying, a little dejectedly. "I practically begged them to hire me, but no. Due to my…  _questionable_  past and even more questionable family, I am not suitable for their employment. It's Flourish and Blotts for pity's sake! My father practically  _owned_ them."

"I'm truly sorry, Draco," said Blaise sympathetically, he sounded the least snobbish of Draco's old school friends, and one of the few that was still alive, and still consorted with him after the battle. "I know that this year has been especially bad for you."  
Draco settled even more heavily in his large overstuffed chair, reaching forward to move a pawn across the board.

"I wish it were only bad. No one will hire me. All of my so-called friends have deserted me in my disgrace; every person that we have ever owed over the years has called in their debts. I've been forced to sell off half of the Malfoy Legacy, just to satisfy my debtors. Do not worry; we are still able to live in comfort, if not the extravagance that we have been used to." He stood to pace, as he was wont to do when agitated, but chose against it, and moved another of his pieces. "But I don't know how much longer I can go without  _something_ to spend my time doing. It seems that I sold my honor along with my soul when I joined the Dark Lord's ranks."  
Blaise moved his knight, capturing a bishop.  
"And your father-"  
"My father does nothing but make snide comments about my attempt to keep the family afloat, and drink himself into the past. I am living on his ill-gotten money, something that he will not let me forget, and there are rumors that I will be hauled in front of the Wizengamot to face my crimes."  
"I thought that you were absolved of those?"  
Draco laughed mirthlessly.

"I thought so too, but it seems that someone in the ministry does not believe that I've atoned for my sin,"  
"Potter?"  
"No, he has made no attempt on me since the end of the battle."  
"Because you married his witch?"

Draco chuckled again, but it wasn't forced, he stared down at the chess board with an odd expression on his face.  
"I do not think that Granger is  _anyone's_ witch. And I doubt that Harry Potter would be foolish enough to think so. No. He is honorable, despite our past differences, more so than I would have been in his place."

Blaise noted the lack of anger in his friend's voice, and chose not to remark on it, choosing instead to change the subject.  
"How goes it with  _the_  witch?" he asked as soon as he had made his move.  
Draco's face went still as marble as he contemplate the question as well as his move. "It… goes. But I think that she will wish it absolved as soon as the year and the day are up."  
"So no hope for little Half-Blood children with extreme academic proficiency and bad-tempered charm tumbling about the Manor?"  
Draco saw it at once, blond haired brown-eyed toddlers with expressive eyebrows and smirking lips. He shook his head to clear the random picture, swearing lightly as Blaise captured one of his pieces.

"She wants ties with an Ex-Death Eater about as much as Flourish and Blotts does apparently."  
"Sorry mate."  
Draco moved his queen and shrugged his shoulders suddenly as if getting rid of a heavy weight.

"No matter. Perhaps the Marriage Law does not extend to Azkaban inmates."

Silence pervaded the room for several moves; the only sound was the slight crackling of a fire and the tick ticking of the ancient mahogany clock that stood in the corner.

Blaise countered a move and cursed lightly as one of Draco's rooks swept one of his bishops off the board.

"What about Hogwarts? You were always so good at Defense against the Dark Arts, only second to Potter himself. Why couldn't you teach there?"

Draco laughed loudly.  
"I would never give McGonagall the pain of having to kindly turn me down, besides, imagine me  _teaching._  That's worth a good laugh, Blaise, thank you."  
Blaise listened to his old friend patiently, ignoring the enormous amount of posturing easily. He could read Draco like a book at times like this, he had known him for far too long, and had disagreed with him enough to know what was going on.

"You couldn't be any less qualified than Professor Snape," said Blaise, "and you and I both know that he was one of the best teachers we ever had."  
The memory of his godfather struck Draco hard; he blinked and swallowed hard.

Blaise, who not as terrible as the Slytherin stereotype would have him be, studiously ignored his friend's discomfort; knew that Draco and Snape had had an almost father-son relationship.

Besides, Zabini could see a move that would cause him to win the game, and it looked as though Draco had missed it.

Blaise made the move.

"McGonagall would never allow me to teach, the parents would have a fit. It's out of the question."

Hermione watched her husband take his black knight and move it across the board, a look of veiled triumph on his face.

She knew that he'd won even before he said Checkmate. She saw the look of weary defeat suddenly replaced by a brief moment of victory.

The young witch suddenly wondered when she had become so proficient in reading his eyes.

* * *

**November 13th**

Ginny Potter strode into the room, looking every inch a matriarch worthy of the Weasley name.

Hermione looked up from her desk in surprise.

"Hello Ginny."  
Ginny grinned, looking fourteen again, and ready to share the pros and cons of her newest boyfriend.

Hermione sighed in great humor and looked her old friend in the eye.

"Oh Merlin's beard, what's happened now?"  
Ginny's dimples grew even deeper.

"You know the world has become tragically inept when a witch can't go and visit an old school chum without her motives being questioned."  
Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"They will  _always_ be questioned when said friend has  _that_ particular look on her face."  
Ginny began laughing happily.

"Good grief, I've missed you, Hermione."  
Hermione allowed herself to smile warmly at her best girl friend.

"It really  _is_ too long between visits, how have you been?"  
Ginny plopped herself down in one of Hermione's uncomfortable chairs, and then regretted the plopping as the springs dug into her.

"Bloody...what is wrong with your chairs?" she shouted, waving her wand and adding stuffing.

Hermione shrugged.

"I'm a witch on a budget."  
Ginevra Potter eyed the witch across from her in mock scrutiny.

"Not anymore, Mrs.  _Malfoy._ "  
Hermione pulled a face.

"Don't remind me."  
"That bad of a kisser, huh?"  
The brown-haired witch's eyes snapped open.

"You are the only person that I know that would go from  _that_ to kissing. In one sentence."  
Ginny nodded severely.

"This is what comes from you being best friends with two of the cloddiest boys ever to be created, and me being raised amongst the heathen men of my family- dad excluded. You shouldn't be so shocked Mione.  _Really._ "  
"I wouldn't know…" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"You do too know, you're the closest thing to a sister that I've ever had, and you've had more than enough experience with my brothers..."  
"No, I mean I wouldn't know about kissing Malfoy."  
Ginny stopped in open-mouthed shock.

"You two didn't kiss at your binding ceremony?"  
Hermione ran through that emotionally stunting day in a quick thought.

"No. We were too busy being explained to about the Year and a Day clause by our  _very_  uncomfortable Binding Wizard."  
"Yes I can see how that might put a damper on things."  
"It did. After that we sort of just, skipped the end bit."  
Ginny placed an open hand on Hermione's orderly desk, nearly upsetting an entire months worth of interoffice memos. Hermione winced but said nothing.

"And you haven't had any time since then to...?"  
Hermione grimaced.

"Not really. It's a bit hard to slip in a quick snog when you're always on the verge of sending a curse at the other person's head."  
Mrs. Potter ignored her friend's smirk at her jump from kiss to snog. Ginny tactfully made no comment.

"Yes, that would be a bit difficult…" agreed the redheaded witch. "But you haven't ever even wanted to?"  
Hermione thought back to the night that he'd defended her from his father, when he didn't have to. Or when she'd woken up to find him holding her hand and wrapped in his jacket. She still didn't remember a great deal of that night. However, what she did remember, puzzled her beyond all words.

Ginny's face grew even more amused as the silence drug on.

"That's really beside the point..." Hermione growled finally. "I'm not going to try to kiss him if he doesn't want to kiss me."  
"Are you sure he doesn't want to?"  
Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know there are generations of Gryffindors rolling in their respective graves because you are encouraging a fellow Gryffindor to kiss a  _Slytherin._ "  
Ginny cocked an eyebrow, looking distractingly like Ron.

"In your own words Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy: We are  _not_  at Hogwarts anymore."

"I know Ginny. It's just very… hard."  
Ginny smiled knowingly.

"I know you Mione, you've set your mind to this. You won't let a problem of this magnitude slip away without at least  _trying_ to solve it."  
Hermione made no response, and Ginny, seeing that the topic was closed for now, allowed it to drop. Instead turning to the pressing matter of where they were going to eat lunch.

A husband she maybe couldn't figure out, but problems to solve? Now that, that was something that she could handle.

* * *

**November 21st**

"Why, it's a pleasure to see you, Hermione, come right in."  
Hermione confidently stepped into the Headmistress' office. Taking in the cozy rooms and the tartan rug.

"Thank you Professor." Hermione said, sitting down on one of the plaid chairs in front of the stolid and unchanged desk.

Minerva McGonagall studied the young woman who had just come unannounced to Hogwarts.

"What is bothering you, Ms. Granger?" The shrewd older woman knew almost every student that had come through Gryffindor tower as well as she would know her own children. _If_  she'd ever had any. There was something  _clearly_ on Hermione's mind.

Hermione's face read thankfulness; she was glad that the Headmistress had not forced her to beat around the bush in order to ask this odd favor.

"Except it's no longer Granger, is it?" asked the older woman, glad that her mind was quite as astute as it had ever been.

"Yes." replied Hermione quietly. "It's Malfoy now."  
 _"Malfoy?" h_ issed a well remembered voice from her past.  _"_ Not  _Draco_  Malfoy _?"  
_ "Yes.  _Draco_ Malfoy," said Hermione to the face behind the desk. "Good to see you again, Professor Snape."  
The Bat-Like man sneered at her, as he had many a time in life.

"It surprised me, Ms. Granger, that you would lower yourself enough to marry a Slytherin. I thought it was practically written in stone that you would be eloping with the Weasley boy as soon as you two were legal _."_  
Hermione ignored the hackles rising in the back of her throat. The man may have been a hero, but he was also bloody insufferable git at times.  
"Now, now, Severus," said another, kinder voice, though no less rich. "You of all people should know the importance of not judging a book by its cover, an incredibly apt Muggle analogy if I do say so myself."  
Twinkling blue eyes stared out from the portrait to the direct left of Severus Snape.

He drew his half-moon glasses off and polished them on a regal blue sleeve embroidered with silver and gold stars.

"And how have you been, Mrs. Malfoy?"  
They both ignored the scoff that issued forth from Snape's direction.

"Fine thank you, Headmaster." Hermione blinked and turned to McGonagall. "Sorry, Headmistress, its just habit..."  
"No matter," said the wise old witch. "To tell you the truth, I still think of him as my headmaster too."  
Dumbledore chuckled and replaced his glasses.

"I believe that you were about to ask Minerva for a favor, my dear, before Severus interrupted."  
Hermione took a deep breath.

"I was wondering if you had filled the teaching post for Defense against the Dark Arts yet."  
Minerva's face looked pensive.

"We have had various substitutes. But no. No one has stayed long term."

A small, almost-smile crossed the serious face.

"Apparently the myth persists that the job is cursed, and so no one will stay for more than a month or two. In fact, we've just recently lost our newest Defense Teacher yesterday, he apparently thinks that the Giant Squid is out to get him." The brown eyes sharpened on the face of the young witch sitting in front of her. "I was under the impression that you were quite happy in your job at the ministry, may I ask why you would be wanting work here?"  
A look of surprise darted across Hermione's expressive face.

"Oh no, not me, Professor McGonagall!"  
"Then for whom?" Asked McGonagall, looking severe and slightly daunting. Dumbledore's painted face brightened suddenly as he realized her reason for asking, whereas Snape's darkened suspiciously.

"Well… for Draco, ma'am." The normally eloquent witch seemed at a sudden loss for words. "I was…well I was wondering if he would ever be considered for the job, you see, he was best in the class, other than Harry, and..."  
"I am quite informed of Mr. Malfoy's proficiency thank you, Ms. Granger..." McGonagall winced again. "Mrs. Malfoy."

"Then" Hermione began again, feeling both chastised and emboldened. "Would you consider him for the post?"  
McGonagall frowned deeply.

"I had no idea that he was interested in the post, and if he is, and, why are you here and not him?"  
Hermione shrugged.

"Well… you see. He doesn't exactly know I'm here. I don't think that he even knows that I know about him thinking about teaching..."

"Draco does not need his Gryffindor wife begging for..." __  
"Please be quiet, Severus." McGonagall fought the impulse to massage her temples in weariness. "Then why..."  
"Because he doesn't even think that you would give him a second glance."

Hermione paused, and then plunged forward.

"He doesn't think that he would even be considered for the post because he was a… Death Eater, and… he's bloody proud."  
She expected an outcry from her old Potions Professor. However, when none came, she glanced up to find him regarding her strangely. Fingering the place where his Dark Mark resided and she wondered how much magicked pigment and parchment could feel.

Minerva thought for several long minutes.

"I am not… Ms. Gra-  _Malfoy._ I am not sure that I  _would_ usually extend that honor to someone with such undesirable, and dangerous past ties.  _However..._ "

She replied, with a hand in the air to forestall any argument.

"I cannot in good conscience turn him down for those reasons. For the sole reason that a person's past does not make them, nor does it break them."

Hermione thought the Headmistress looked suddenly aged as she continued.

"Since, as you know, some of my most respected coworkers… and  _friends_ have had murky and discolored pasts."  
Hermione attempted to keep herself from glancing at Snape. Who had a soft, almost uncomfortable look in his eyes at these words.

"And so, I will review his credentials and possibly schedule an interview."  
Hermione's eyes widened at such a gracious turn, she turned to leave, knowing that she should be getting back.  
McGonagall and she spoke for a few more minutes, making plans for having tea at some point in the near future.

"Professor?"  
"Yes, Hermione."  
Hermione traced the pattern in the rug with the toe of her boot.  
"Please don't tell Draco that I came here today."  
Minerva wanted to ask why, wanted to understand what was going on between the two former students.

However, she managed to resist, moving to side with Dumbledore's old fail-safe of trusting and waiting until all was revealed.

"Alright Ms. Grang-  _Malfoy._ I will."

All three involved parties watched the young woman exit the old and memory-filled room. Silence pervaded for several minutes- pregnant and ominous.

"Well." said Dumbledore finally with a ghost of a smile on his painted face. "Who would have thought it, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin."  
"I see no proof that the affections are mutual,  _Headmaster_."

Past and Present Headmaster/Headmistress turned to the surly Potions Professor.

"You do not think that him  _marrying_ her is a sign of some sort of  _something_?"  
Snape eyed her with cold eyes. McGonagall felt the chill sweep her just as the real gaze had.

"I think that it was for convenience sake, that is all."

"Really Severus,  _you_ of all people condemning an inter-house affair?" said the old headmaster with the barest trace of an edge in his rumbling voice.

Snape huffed lightly and but said nothing. He knew when he had been beaten.

"I pity her, though." McGonagall thoughtfully added, still staring at the closed door. "She has not chosen an easy route if her heart truly lies with him."  
"Love very rarely is the easy route, my dear Minerva.  _Nothing_  is simple where the heart is concerned."

* * *

**November 31st**

She heard him come into the room next to hers; there was a knock on their adjoining doors, surprising her.

"Granger? May I come in?"  
She placed the book down.

"Um… Yes?"  
He ventured in, carefully moving to stand beside the bed. He looked windswept, as if he had been out in the storm walking. There was a cut on his forehead and his lip was split and bloodied. Blond hair disheveled and mussed, a light leather jacket and a casual polo were soaked straight through. The slight flush to his cheeks made him look human; Hermione noted that he  _was_ quite handsome. Ginny wasn't all wrong.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"  
"Get McGonagall to interview me for the Dark Arts teaching position?"  
She blanched, trying to keep her surprise from her face.  
"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Granger; I know you must have done it."

He refused to let her drop her gaze from his, sudden terse, vulnerability crossed his always-ashen face.

"I just asked." Hermione sighed  
He blinked, rainwater dripping from his eyelashes.

"What...I mean... _Why?"_

"You need a job… I'm your wife… Take your pick."  
"How did you know?" he asked suspiciously.

She smirked up into his face.

"Gryffindors can be sneaky too, Malfoy."  
A smile creaked across his face, and he shivered.

"Well… did you get it?"

Hermione attempted to ignore his blue lips.

He nodded.

She squealed in excitement then, without thinking, threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. As she would Ron or Harry.

He tensed, and she remembered that he was neither Ron nor Harry.

He was Draco Malfoy. He was her husband.

She relinquished him instantly. Neither said anything.

"What the devil have you been doing anyway?" She peered at him and his many bruises and banged-upness with a practiced eye. "You're all wet and, what happened to you?" she asked, she had felt him wince slightly as she had hugged him.

He shrugged.

"Met up with some old friends on the way home, they got a few good hits in before I could get away."  
"You didn't fight?"  
He scoffed.

"I got a few shots off. You should see  _them_."

"You're bloody soaked." she pointed out obviously. "Well… bloody  _and_ soaked. Get those clothes off."  
Shock crossed his face, she swept out of the room and into his, grabbing a pair of pants and a t-shirt out of his closet. Amazed that he owned such casual things.

She came back in the room, throwing the pants to him as he stepped behind her changing screen.

"I know that you've got something wrong with your ribs, so come out and I'll see what I can do."  
"Granger I don't need..."  
"Shut up and come out."  
"No."

"Then I'll come in,"  
"No -  _all right -_ all right, I'm coming."  
He appeared, pale and muscular in the firelight. A large gray-green bruise that looked like a starburst exploded out from directly under his left arm. It covered most of his side.

That was not what made her hiss in shock and sympathy. Hermione had seen worse bruises on Ron and Harry after a Quidditch match, or after Harry had decided to duel someone. This looked like a routine Expelliarmus bruise.

"What did they  _do_ to you?" she asked, feeling the blood rush to her head as lightheadedness came on.

He made a move for his shirt, but she held it away. Staring aghast at the scars that covered his back from shoulders to where his trousers began. Long ropy whip like scars ran alongside thin, deep, white scars that looked like they had been made by knife blades spelled with heat to close the wound as soon as it was made.

Unimaginable pain without death.

Torture.

"Merlin,  _why_  did they do that to you?"

Anger and discomfort showed in his pale face.

"The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure." The scars stretched and receded as he breathed, Hermione couldn't stop looking at them. When she finally drug her eyes from them she found him watching her. Looking oddly hidden despite his exposed chest.

_He heard himself scream. At first though, he didn't know that it was him screaming. The whip was yanked back once again. Voldemort laughed and took the long dagger and cut deep into the flesh beneath his arm. The pain was beyond pain. He heard his mother scream and wail. His father said nothing. He stood to the side and did nothing while his only son was mutilated._

_Coward._

_Who was the coward? Which one of them? Draco had failed Voldemort, but Lucius had failed his family._

Hermione watched her husband swallow deeply and turn an odd shade.

"How could he do that to his own people?"  
Draco shrugged.

"I was fortunate to get off so easily."

Tears threatened to overwhelm her as she remembered her treatment at the hands of the Death Eaters and wondered what horrors he had been through.

He had done evil, yes, and the cost had been great indeed for his sins.

"I'll do your bruise," she murmured and moved around to his bruise, uttering the spell of healing from memory.  
She placed her hand on the largest of the scars tracing its path across the skin of his back; she knew that it had been made by a whip.

His skin shivered at her touch, he turned and she glanced up into his face, unaccustomed to being this close to her ex-enemy.

"I will not have your pity, Granger. For all the times I failed him, there are countless others where I did his bidding gleefully, and to the letter."

"No one deserves this," she said emphatically.

He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his bare skin, his Dark Mark showed black and conspicuous on his forearm.

"You would not say that if you had seen what I've done."

She moved to argue but he silenced her with a familiar frown.  
"Good night," he said, taking his shirt from her hands at last, and disappearing from sight.

* * *

**December 4th**

"What happened?" she sighed.

"Hmm?"  
She ran fingers through her unruly hair.

"What happened to simpler times?"  
Harry, struck by the incongruity of her words, choked out a laugh.

"Simpler meaning, Basilisks and dragons and breaking into Gringotts and then the ministry  _twice._  Not to mention overthrowing the most evil wizard known to exist?"  
Hermione laughed with him, ceding to his point.

"Yes I see what you mean. We've never really had a  _normal_ year yet, have we?"  
He agreed, but still felt the unresolved question between them.

"A lot has changed this year," he said finally and she sighed again in response. The clock struck three and Harry felt as if someone had been time-turning on them to make things go by faster.

The three of them had not been together for more than an evening in ages.

"It seemed simpler then. Even when life was at its absolute worst, I never doubted our winning. There was never a time when I thought about what I would have to do if Voldemort won. Because  _we_ were sure to win. But now…" She faltered. "I have to grow up, to mold my life, and it terrifies me more than anything we did during school."  
It was as if the dam that had been Hermione's resolve had broken in the face of her friend's concern.

"I was so sure of my life after the war, I knew what was going to happen, in fact I was unwilling to imagine life otherwise. There was no other alternative. But… it's all changed. And I'm becoming more and more all right with it. The decisions I've made, marrying Draco, moving here… I'm still all right with them. Even though they're the furthest thing from my wildest imaginings… it's almost like I'm betraying the little girl that planned her future… am I insane?"  
Harry placed an arm around her.

"Are you sure you want to ask me? My own sanity has been doubted since I was eleven."  
She chuckled over the tears that welled in her eyes and made her throat burn.

"He's the enemy, Harry, and all those years of hating him, and everything he stood for are crumbling away, I feel like a traitor. Because he's been kind to me, Draco Malfoy. He stood up to his father for me, you know? He doesn't know that I heard, but isn't that a sign?"  
"Do you love him, Hermione?"  
Uncertainty clouded her normally sure face, her eyebrows darted haphazardly around her forehead.

"No. But…" She trailed off, her friend understood, and didn't press her.

"You know if you do we're behind you one hundred percent. Even Ron. We've talked, he's more okay with it now."  
"Not to mention he's dating Luna Lovegood."  
Harry moaned.

"They're insufferable. It is possibly the most disturbing thing that I've ever witnessed in my life."  
Hermione laughed.

"Clearly you don't remember what  _we_ had to go through when you and Ginny started dating again after the war."  
"Ah well…" Harry grimaced, remembering his ridiculous actions after the Battle for Hogwarts. He had felt so free then. As if all the weight that had been with him all of his life had dropped away like a stone. "That is completely different."  
They passed a minute or two in companionable silence.

"When  _will_ Ron be back?"

"Well they said he'd be back in a few months. But you know the ministry, even with Kingsley at the head, things are constantly getting delayed." He shifted his glasses up on his nose in a familiar gesture.

"He likes his job then?"  
Harry grinned.

"It's Ron. Of course he does."  
Hermione smiled, a small part of her relaxing as she heard that her best friends were both becoming satisfied with their adult lives.

Now, if only she could find the same peace.

* * *

**December 11th**

The Wizengamot surrounded him, looking for all the world to see like a disapproving sea.

His mother sat off to one side, she had aged so much in the past year. It hurt him to think that  _he_ had been the prime instigator in her premature aging.

There was Potter, in the row behind Draco's mother. Of course he would be here. It was  _his_ friend, wasn't it?

"Do you deny using the killing curse on the two in question?"  
Kingsley Shacklebolt, who would look impressive in a flour bag, looked almost godlike in his deep crimson robes and single gold earring. He had dispatched with the traditional hat, which rather looked like a wonky scone. His head remained unadorned. As usual.

"I do not deny it," said the accused, and the crowd went insane.


	7. Chapter 7

**December 11th**

_The Wizengamot surrounded him, looking for all the world to see like a disapproving sea._

_His mother sat off to one side, she had aged so much in the past year. It hurt him to think that_ _he had been the prime instigator in her premature aging._

_There was Potter, in the row behind Draco's mother. Of course he would be here. It was_ _his friend wasn't it?_

_"Do you deny using the killing curse on the two in question?"  
Kingsley Shacklebolt, who would look impressive in a flour bag, looked almost godlike in his deep crimson robes and single gold earring. He had dispatched with the traditional hat, which rather looked like a wonky scone. His head remained unadorned. As usual._

_"I do not deny it." Draco heard himself say, his voice was surprisingly strong, despite the fact that his body felt like it was in pieces. The young man couldn't quite grasp that_ _he was the one on trial. It still felt a bit like he was watching a stranger go through this seemingly endless hearing._

"You do know that that offence merits a life sentence in Azkaban?"  
"I do."  
Kingsley's eyes were oddly sad.

"Couldn't keep your foul Death Eater paws off of us normal wizards, could you, Malfoy?" A shrill voice echoed down from the Wizengamot, silencing Kingsley's next words. "Just had to kill some more of us, as if you didn't have your turn when You-Know-Who was rising?"

Draco didn't know the accuser; he couldn't remember all of the names of those who hated him. It was an endless list of abuses. Mostly perpetrated by his father.

_His father._

Even with all the hate, the pain was still too fresh. Draco fought back tears. His father would find the tears weak, even the memory mocked him. Sneering with cold eyes at his weak son.

Lucius Malfoy had never uttered aloud the words failure or weak. However his every action shouted them louder than his human voice ever could have.

The tears dried, replaced by the same cold anger that he had learned to embrace and savor. It made him strong.

Kingsley raised an arm to silence the sudden hubbub at Draco's silence.

"Tell us again, Mr. Malfoy. What happened that night?"  
Draco's eyes burned. He had only told the whole story twice. Once to Kingsley Shacklebolt immediately following his arrest; and the second time to Harry Potter after Draco had requested him to visit on the night of his arrest. That meeting had been surprising for both of them.

Sitting next to Potter was the Redheaded sidekick. Ron was looking surprisingly subdued as he had never been in this room before.

"I was at my home. It was late, it had been storming all day. So we didn't hear them enter." His bored tone may have fooled those who did not knew him. However, those who could read him saw great emotion behind the disdain.

"I was getting ready to go to bed, as was my wife. Two wizards that I didn't recognize burst into the room and proceeded to hold my wife at Wandpoint."  
" _Tell us where they are, Malfoy!" shouted the wizard who had Hermione, she did not like being the damsel in distress. But there was nothing that she could do without getting both of them killed._

" _Where who are?" he asked calmly, barely keeping the rage out of his voice, the wizard holding her had punched her twice in the face before he could get her under control. She was bleeding from a busted lip and a split in her eyebrow. Her left cheekbone was already starting to redden and swell._

"They attacked my wife and held her at wandpoint, demanding for me to give the whereabouts of my fellow ex-Death Eaters."

" _The rest of your bloody Death Eater friends who escaped after the war, we know that you know where they are, tell us_ now!"

_His blood began to boil as he watched Hermione wince as the wand tip pressed into her neck; twisting her hand up behind her back until they both heard a slight snap and her watched her bite her lip in the way that says she's attempting to be brave, but it's quite a terrible fight, and she's on the verge of losing_

" _I don't know where they are," he replied curtly, purposefully looking away from her pain. He knows that if he shows any concern at all they will use it to his disadvantage, and if they hurt her again, he's not sure that he'll be able to control himself. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."_

"When I told them that I didn't know where any of those people are since I am no longer in contact with them."  
A loud scoff was heard in the high rows around him. Draco ignored it.

"They proceeded to mock my family, attempting to draw out some sort of reaction." _  
The second wizard sneered thickly._

" _Taking the coward's stance, are we Malfoy? Just like old daddy?"_

"Did they succeed?" Kingsley asked suddenly. _  
Draco's fingertips itched for the wand beneath his robes. Any time before, and he wouldn't have reacted, but not now. Not while the grief was still so fresh._

"No."

_Draco knew that a response while he was this angry would just end with him getting them both killed. If there was anything that he had learned from Snape, it was that the worst thing you can do is to attack in anger. Too bad the teacher had rarely followed his own advice._

" _I'll ask you again, Malfoy. Where are your Death Eater comrades?"  
Draco's glance became lazy and insubordinate._

" _and again,_ thickhead,  _I have no idea where they are."  
The man with Hermione swore loudly and motioned to the other, who sighed and nodded._

" _Well then, you give us no choice You know, we can just kill her, to get her off your hands. We know you'd like that, or maybe… have our way with her a bit. We know you won't mind. Pureblood pig._ Crucio!"

"What happened next, Mr. Malfoy?  
The blond seemed to come back to them from far away. His face oddly twisted and sorrowful.

"They then used the Cruciatus Curse on my wife in an attempt to make me talk."

A loud murmur went around the room, he heard Ron swear loudly and inventively. Harry shushed him. Mostly because there were several wizards around them who looked faintly scandalized by his friend's uncensored language.

"And you're sure that it was the Cruciatus Curse, Mr. Malfoy?"  
 _Hermione's screams ate into his brain she fell to the floor and began to writhe in pain_

"Yes. I'm quite positive."

Everyone in the room trusted that he knew a Cruciatus Curse when he saw one. His family had a particular fondness to that curse.

"And then?"

_Suddenly he was detached from the scene, moving as fast as he had in school, when he and Potter had been evenly matched for speed. He drew his wand, first speaking the curse and hitting the man with the free hand directly in the chest with a flash of green light that lit the room._

"I attacked them."

_The second man swore loudly in shock and fear, dropping Hermione in his haste to get his wand at the defensive._

" _Prote-"  
"Aveda Kedavra!" Draco roared, feeling the rage leave him along with the spell. He stared at the two corpses on his floor with something like cold shock._

"Did you give them warning of the killing curse?" Kingsley asked kindly, if a voice like a lion's growl could ever be described as kindly.

"I don't generally warn someone before I try to kill them."

This surprised a titter out of the more sardonic members of the crowds. To Draco's surprise, Ron was one of the latter.

Kingsley managed to keep his face devoid of emotion, either way.

"I mean was it necessary to use the killing curse  _first?"_

Draco regarded his judge without feeling.

"They were using the Cruciatus Curse on my  _wife._ Would you be thinking through what was  _necessary_?"

A seeping of anger had appeared in his so far calm voice. Harry tensed, knowing that this would be the point that would make or break his case.

_Hermione was beside him, crying into his shoulder, telling him that it was going to be okay._

_He wondered how that she could be comforting him, when she was the one that needed rescuing._

" _Get the ministry here, Granger," he said finally, as his tongue decided to work again. "They are going to want to arrest me."_

"And you alerted the Ministry immediately following?"

Everyone seemed skeptical about his story. This irked him.

"Apparently," he said insolently "Seeing as I'm here, and not comfortably installed in my home waiting for my house elves to bury the incriminating evidence."  
A twitch of the lips, and a quiver of the eyes were the only evidence that Shacklebolt had enjoyed his words.

"If you would please save your sarcasm for another time and attempt to treat this trial with a modicum of seriousness."

"I am speaking in utmost seriousness." Draco intoned. "Clearly I am hiding nothing, or else you would have never found out that this had happened."  
"Either that or you thought that confessing would shed some of your guilt," said the voice again, or perhaps this was another voice, Draco was finding it hard to separate the friendly face from the unfriendly.

"Are you saying that you would have done something illegal in your past?"  
Kingsley was no fool, but he was minister, which forced him occasionally to ask foolish questions.

"Death-Eater." Draco said mirthlessly, to the surprise of most of the crowd.

Those who had been Death-Eaters rarely admitted to the fact in public. No matter how overwhelming the evidence was against them.

"So you affirm that two Aurors appeared in your house, attacked you and your wife, and then proceeded to question you about past activities, without the ministry's orders?"  
The young Malfoy wondered how many times he would be forced to retell his story.

"Yes. That is what I am saying. That is what I have  _been_ saying."  
"Then you have no proof of their malice?"

Cold rage again.

"Have you seen my wife's face?"  
Kingsley knew the wisdom in those words, but he knew the argument that would be called against it before it was even voiced.

"How do we know that they weren't going to confront him about his illegal activities, that he killed them to keep them quiet? Then tortured his own wife to conceal his guilt." The man looked like a Minister of something that most of the wizarding world had never heard of. Draco fought the urge to sneer haughtily.

It was getting ridiculous, he could do nothing anymore. All of his old ways were labeled and expected; he had been raised a Pureblood. It was his nature.

Everyone's eyebrows shot upwards as the possibility of this began to take hold.

"You may agree with any possibility you choose, I prefer the truth." He was only looking at Kingsley, as he was almost positive that Potter believed him already. "I have told you that two Aurors attacked my wife and I for no reason and I defended my home and killed them both because they viciously attacked my wife."  
"He only defended her because he knew that if he let Hermione Granger die he'd have the whole wizarding world on his tail."

Draco glared in the direction of the voice.

"I saved her, because she is my  _wife."_

"So you say."

"I am  _not_ lying."

"So you saved her because you have feelings for her as a wife, or are the rumors that you married for convenience true, and you merely wanted to save face? Marry a member of the golden trio and ensure the friendship of the famous Harry Potter. Not to mention the rest of the wizarding world."  
Draco's emotions were veiled again, so deeply that Snape would have been proud.

"I fail to see how the nature of relationship with my wife has bearing on this case."  
"So you would not allow us to ask why you saved Hermione Granger, using Veritaserum?"  
There were strict rules about the use of Veritaserum in cases like this. Only the defendant could allow the use, and only for certain questions. It was a dangerous game to be played.

"What would that prove?" Draco asked, his voice dangerously low.

"That you saved her from Aurors who were threatening her well-being. That you didn't do the damage yourself-"  
Draco stood suddenly, making a step toward the accuser, the last shreds of his composure snapping like thread.

Kingsley was also standing, when he had done so no one knew. They were all surprised that he had moved that quickly, his wand out and pointed at Draco.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy."  
The pale young man's eyes were still burning with rage as he sat down in his seat.

"The Wizengamot will no longer pursue that line of questioning, the accused however,  _is_ , allowed to accept the deal if he wishes. As it will provide insight into character and partial proof to the jury."

Draco's said nothing, and Kingsley continued.

"Since we have no proof either way of the intentions of the Aurors, and the Killing Curse  _is_ prohibited by law, except under extreme circumstances. You will be sentenced to Azkaban, unless you have some prior proof."

He banged the odd gavel authoritatively and stood, along with the rest of the court.

Draco still looked defiant, although defeated. Something that his father had never managed.

* * *

Ron swore at the verdict and moaned.

"How could they bloody not believe him?" he hissed at his best friend.

Harry shook his head, seeing the plausibility in both sides of the story. Astonished at how one's past came back to haunt you.

Most people were willing to pass judgment merely because he was a Malfoy.

"Come on, Ron, I want to go talk to Kingsley. I have a request to make of him."

* * *

**December 12th**

Ron Weasley looked down at the frail girl lying on the bed before him. He could almost imagine that they were in their second year, Hermione petrified and waiting to be released from this forced coma.

But it wasn't. They'd grown up.

His eyes softened on the girl that he'd fallen so deeply in love with during school. Things could have been so different. Things could have turned out so much easier.

But they hadn't. They'd grown up.

Perhaps that's what made things altogether so interesting. Perhaps that's what kept things going.

Yes, he had fallen in love with her. Lost her. And then fallen promptly back out of love with her.

He would have loved to say that it was easy and that his heart hadn't broken in two, and that there would always be that part of him that he had lost to her. But that was life…

Her eyes flicked open. She had felt him staring at her like some fifth-year moron.

"Ron?" she asked weakly, closing her eyes and swallowing with some difficulty. He reached forward and poured her a glass of water. Her hands were like ice. Not at all like the normal Hermione hands.

"Disappointed?" he asked smugly, sitting next to her bed.

She smirked and shook her head, bringing into view the contrasting colors of the bruises that mottled her face, and the cast on her arm. Not to mention her eye.

"No. Just surprised," she replied with characteristic honesty. "I know you've been really busy with your job-"  
"Which I'm not allowed to talk about," his enthusiastic interruption allayed her fear that he might hate his job.

"I wasn't asking," she responded immediately, covering her smile with irritation. He was always less disturbed by the normal, grouchy, overly-full-of-facts Hermione. Not the weak, lying on a hospital bed with various injuries Hermione.

"Sorry," he said with a slight grin on his wide British face. "I'm just a little tense - being in that bloody Wizengamot takes it out of a man…" His words trailed off, face blanching miserably as he saw her rise to the slight slip of the tongue.

"The wizengamot?" When she asked things in such a calm, reassuring manner it always worried him.

"No…" He retorted, drawing the vowel out too long. "I said Wizened Maggot…"  
The witch sat up straight in bed, apparently too quickly for her own body, as she groaned and winced. Ron helped her sit up straight, glad for the slight reprieve from her piercing stare.

"Don't lie to me, Ron. You're bloody awful at it and you know it."  
"No really Mione - I said Wizened Maggot."  
"Then where's Harry?" she asked sneakily, hoping to catch him out. She had, it was a small perverse pleasure to watch him try to invent a story that would go past her formidable radar. She knew that he wasn't an idiot, she just knew him far too well for good. She knew exactly how to panic him into reverting to a stuttering first year in Potions Class.

"I'm marrying Luna Lovegood!" He roared suddenly, taking up the time-honored banner of shouting the most inopportune things at even less opportune times.

Hermione felt suddenly more lightheaded and thoroughly distracted.

"You're what?" The voice that came from her was about five octaves higher than normal. She could only imagine what her face looked like.

He seemed to realize that he had shouted that… in a hospital room. A matronly looking healing-witch stuck her head around the corner and motioned for him to please attempt to be less health inhibiting.

"No well – yes - I um - there's something that I've been meaning to tell you..."  
"I think you've told me," responded his best friend.

"Oh well yes…"

She wished she could be angry with him. Wished that she could yell a bit and tell him not to spring such things on an invalid. But there he was, looking so incredibly lost and confused. So incredibly  _Ron._ That she couldn't help herself.

A small smile leaked across her face, causing him to look less terrified.

"When did you decide this, Ronald?" she asked with all the pompousness that she had always enjoyed.

His face twisted shyly and happily,

"Last week actually. I was going to tell you but then…"

The silence didn't last long. They were too good friends for that.

"Good job, Ron." she said carefully, making sure that he knew what she was saying. And what she was leaving unsaid.

"You were worried about me, weren't you?"  
She shrugged.

"Well, it seemed as though you were never going to get over me."  
He turned a little purple.

"As if Mione. You weren't  _that_ awesome."  
She punched him with her uninjured hand.

"As if? Ronald?"  
His ears turned pink, not the angry red. Just the slightly embarrassed shade of pink.

"Luna - you see - she likes to watch American Muggle Telly… it's a hobby apparently."

Another silence. This one more comfortable than the last.

"We were pretty great, weren't we?" he said suddenly, not quite looking at her.

She felt emotion grip her. Squeezing and crushing.

"Yeah Ron. We were."  
He reached forward suddenly and gripped her hand, squishing it inside his larger grown-up palm, Hermione wondered briefly if this was what closure felt like.

Ron stood, moving to leave. She didn't let go,

"Now Ronald. Tell me about the trial, or I'll petrify you."

* * *

**December 13th**

The accused sat in his small cell, staring up at the stone walls, enchanted to keep wizards from getting in or out. He had been placed in solitary through no fault of his own. Well, perhaps it  _was_ his fault in a roundabout way.

When he had been put in holding with the other prisoners they had fallen upon him like wild dogs, it seemed that even common criminals had family that his family had stepped on during the Malfoy climb for power.

By the time the guards had decided to pull the five or more guys off of him, he had four broken ribs and two black eyes.

He was healed and sent back in, the guards had no sympathy for the son of Lucius Malfoy.

When he was sent to trial, there was a large bruise that covered most of his face. It had refused to go away despite the magical healings.

The minister had asked what it was from, and Draco had explained emotionlessly, and without embellishment. He had deserved ninety percent of it.

Kingsley had then ordered that he be placed in Solitary for his own safety.

He hadn't spoken to a soul outside of the trial since.

Draco almost preferred broken bones to this insufferable quiet.

Quiet like this forced one to think, to contemplate and remember. There was pain and loneliness in this quiet, regret and guilt.

Once again, the former student wondered how Severus Snape had made it through life without losing his mind. However, his godfather was a man of strict principle and extreme devotion. Draco merely wished that he could be here to talk to, to help with the idea of Azkaban; and the life alone that went with it.

He would be transported to Azkaban in two days, unless something miraculous happened in trial tomorrow.

Which would be just that, a miracle.

He knew that he was being sentenced for something that he hadn't done. However, he also knew that Shacklebolt was just being fair; and surprisingly so, considering that Draco was throwing Aveda Kedavras with the best of them a little less than two years before.

The fault was his. He should not have killed those two men.

Nevertheless, he felt no guilt over his crime. Which was probably the reason that all were so willing to doubt his innocence.

What he worried most about now, was if Hermione was all right. He had not seen her since that night. It had been a week.

Potter had told him that she was being treated in St. Mungo's but he had been allowed no visitors since.

Her injuries had been for more extensive than he had realized, and Harry had said that the Crucio was overly strong, coupled with the fact that she had been tortured before using the same curse… memories stirred in the murky depths of his mind that he'd rather forget. He felt like throwing up.

She hadn't been to any part of his trial.

Therefore, either she was still in the hospital, or she hated him for what he had made her and wanted no part with him again.

He could not tell what bothered him the most. Or  _why_ it bothered him so.

Regret.

That was perhaps what this was called.

A knock sounded on his door, surprising him so much that he almost fell off his cot.

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered, filling the cell like a giant mountain.

"There's someone to see you, Mr. Malfoy," he rumbled, and stepped aside, revealing a very pale looking Hermione leaning heavily on a cane.

"Hermione?" Draco whispered, eyes wide with surprise.

Kingsley bowed out, going unnoticed from the cell. Which is actually quite amazing considering the fact that he is the size of a small redwood.

She hobbled in as quickly as she could losing her balance as she went and falling (quite literally) into his arms. He helped her steady herself, concernedly checking her over in a glance to make sure that she was all right.

There  _was_ something more than the regular bumps and bruises; her left eye was an odd yellow. Almost golden. The pupil looked like a fleck of onyx placed in a plate of gold.

He wanted to know what had happened, but now was not the time.

"How did you get them to let me see you?"  
"You asked?" she said, surprised

He frowned – making her feel a little better about him still possibly being the enemy.

"Of course I did – the last time I saw you, you were collapsing on the hall floor as they led me away."

"Oh…" She sheepishly replied. "Well I'm better, just a little bruised, and as you can see, the eye."

His wife pointed faintly to the unique color  
"Why?"  
"The Cruciatus Curse is only meant to be used a certain amount of times before a person either dies, or gives up whatever it is that they're being tortured for, or they simply go mad. I am apparently the medical marvel of the century." Her face was tired, and it seemed scarred in places that didn't show on skin.

"Can you see out of it?" He asked suddenly, after the odd, soft silence had dwindled into nothingness.

She nodded. "It's odd though. I see better out of it at night than I do in daytime. It's a bit like a super-power..."

"It suits you," he said, and they stood awkwardly like a bunch of fourth years at Madame Puddifoot's.

He turned away, throwing into sharp relief the huge bruise that covered most of the right side of his face.

"What happened?" Her fingers slipped up to brush his bruised face.

Her husband leaned into her touch; his brow seemed fevered and warm. His face was oddly flushed; and his hair was sticking up in odd blond angles.

She had never seen him look more attractive.

"My fellow prisoners..." he replied haughtily, bringing back some of the Malfoy that she knew. "...decided to repay me for mine and my father's sins against them. It seems that even the honest criminal was being blackmailed by the Malfoy family at some point during the past twenty years, and since I look just like my father, they thought that I would be an acceptable substitute."

"You don't look like your father," his wife said surely. Almost defiantly. "At least not in any way that counts."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to the punch. Apparently not ready for that conversation.

"And they didn't heal you?" Hermione asked, appalled.

"Oh they did." Letting the previous discussion drop. "This is healing number nine. Apparently their bruise balm wasn't as affective as they would have hoped."

"And they just sent you back in every time?"  
"Well they couldn't be allowing any special treatment for the only resident pureblood, and I do think that they found it to be a bit of a laugh to watch the daylights get thoroughly beaten out of me. Merlin knows that I deserve it."

His wife eyed him disapprovingly. Ignoring the urge to make a comment.

"How are you?" she asked, pulling him down on the small cot to sit beside her.

He laughed without mirth.  
"Well this isn't exactly the Manor. But I've been in worse."  
She wanted to know  _when_ he had been worse. But now was not the time. There would be ample time for that later, something had happened that night at the Manor. And they were suddenly able to be friends, maybe.

"Well now that I'm well enough to help, we'll get you out of here."  
"Hermione," he said quietly, pulling her hands from his face and looking seriously at her. "They've already sentenced me to Azkaban."  
She grabbed his hand.

"I know, Harry's been by telling me how it's going. But if you answer the question with Veritaserum,"  
" _Hermione._ "

"Why won't you?" she cried. "Just tell them why you defended me. They don't expect love, Malfoy, just some sort of worry for my well-being."  
"But I can't  _lie,_ " he murmured. "It's not that I am going to lie, but I  _can't"_  
"If you don't do it they'll send you to Azkaban."  
"And you'll be free," he reminded her with too much censure in his voice.

She leaned forward and brought her lips to his suddenly, surprising him thoroughly.

He reacted viscerally though. As most males do, and they found themselves suddenly caught up in moving lips and gasping breaths.

When they finally pulled apart she found his hands on her face, his pupils dilated.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Well, you're being an idiot," she told him matter-of-factly, after catching her breath. " _And_  also to tell you that my freedom isn't exactly priority anymore, except you were supposed to figure that out when I kissed you rather than ask me later and make me explain all awkwardly and such…" Her voice trailed off and she looked hopelessly at him.

A small smile formed on lips that looked more lined since the last time she saw them.

"Look at us," he said finally. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor agreeing on something."  
She smirked.

"It does feel a bit monumental, doesn't it? Like someone should be writing it down or something?"  
Hermione noticed how close they were at once, and found her breath shuddering and her heart begin to thump slightly; the thought crossed her mind… they'd been kissing mere moments ago.

A warm feeling spread at the memory.

"So, will you do the Veritaserum?" she asked, a tad breathlessly.

He dropped his gaze.

"Hermione..."

His cold eyes lifted and she saw the smallest trace of humor in their gray depths, a small smile quirked the corner of his lips. It should have angered her that he was treating this as such a game. How little life meant to him anymore.

"I can't lose you," she murmured into his chest after a moment, when he had pulled her close. "Not now."

Draco recoiled at her words, pulling back to look at her, to remind himself that she was quite real. She had shocked him speechless. Seconds ticked by.

A knock sounded on the door, signaling an end to their time together. She stood carefully, leaning on the cane.

"I'll be there tomorrow," she promised, allowing him to help her to the door.

"They won't let you leave the hospital," he replied.

"I'd like to see them try to stop me," she whispered, pulling him into a tight hug that he was still not sure about.

Just as she moved to open the door she felt his arm on her shoulder and found herself pulled into an embrace of desperation, and he was kissing her with quiet intensity. His mouth opened onto hers and she responded with tentative lips.

They were lost at once in the kiss, and she was saddened when the guard knocked again, and she left the tiny cell with an odd sort of euphoria, caused by the last person in the world that she would have expected it.


	8. Chapter 8

**December 14th**

"You agree to be given the Veritaserum?" Kingsley's eyebrow lifted quizzically. If the truth be told, he was as surprised as the rest of the audience, he was just a great deal less vocal about it. There was still a hubbub going around the courtroom. The Minister of Magic glowered about until they all went quiet from intimidation.

"It seems to be the only course of action left to me," he responded wryly. "So… yes."

"Full knowing that the consequences of such an action would leave you to answer the question given to you completely truthfully. Even if it incriminates you?"  
Draco looked at no one but the Minister. He was afraid that his heart would fail within him if he looked at  _her._

"Yes, Minister. I understand."  
Shacklebolt leaned back in his chair.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, we'll take a short recess and have the veritaserum brought to us."  
And it was done.

"The court would like to know if you saved your Wife, Ms. Hermione Malfoy, only to keep suspicion at bay and to keep her friends and family on your side."  
The feeling inside of him defied everything he had been raised and taught.

He felt completely open, revealed to the world.

Displayed.

He could not keep anything from anyone and it frightened him.

"No, I did not."  
He answered simply, showing how strong a mind that he truly had. Most Wizards under the influence of Veritaserum spilled everything they knew about the question including things that no one else really  _needed_ to know. The Minister of Magic was impressed.

"Yet you say that you did it for a selfish motive?"  
Draco sighed.  
"Yes I did."  
"Then tell us, Mr. Malfoy, why did you save your wife from the two attackers on that night?"  
The struggle became apparent for all to see as his inner walls fought to keep his answer inside of him. His defenses did not want him sharing this with a roomful of strangers. It went against the grain.

The room had been cleared mostly - for the benefit of the accused. Draco, the minister, and four other witnesses. Nameless wizards who could be trusted with the truth and to not blab needlessly. The Wizarding world was nothing if not oddly private.

Draco's will was strong. But the veritaserum was even stronger.  
If the truth be told, it was one of the last batches ever made by the late Potion's Master Severus Snape, and there was speculation that he had brewed the most potent of all.

"It is…" He paused, grinding his teeth together. The tiny crowd leaned forward. "It is… because…"

* * *

Eight minutes after the prisoner had been given the veritaserum, the doors to the great Wizengamot hall opened and the prisoner was escorted out.

Hermione rushed up minutes too late. She cursed and would have thrown her cane up against the wall had she not needed it so much.

* * *

**Four Hours Later**

She slipped into the guarded cell. It was no longer locked as he had been declared innocent just hours previous.

Nevertheless, there was still a large group of reporters ready to swarm him and he hadn't been officially released yet.

He looked up as the door swung open and said nothing.

She sat down opposite of him. Arranging herself and fiddling with her sleeves.

"Is the veritaserum still in your system?" she asked,

He nodded.

"Would you like me to come back when it's left you?" She knew that it must be awful for him to be thus revealed. Although there were questions that she was dying to ask him.

"No Hermione. Ask whatever you wish."  
He looked up at her, his grey eyes unreadable and she took a deep breath.

She shifted her weight again, as unsure as he'd even seen her before.

"I won't ask you the things that we both know that I want to ask you. Because it's not fair to you. I don't want you to be forced to tell me anything. You had to tell the courtroom today because your life was on the line and I'm not about to lose you to something that you didn't do. But it tore at me today to know that you went through a personal hell all because I'm a selfish woman. I just… I just don't think that it's right. Um…" She struggled for words now that her speech had ended, and finally just sat down next to him. Unsure of what else to do.

"How are you?" It was starting to become their starting sentence for every conversation.

He was silent for a long time.

"I am… tired." It was too simple, but it would have to suffice.

"Well," She said surely. "You'll have plenty of time to rest when we get home. And term doesn't start for another two months."  
"I don't think that the Headmistress is going to let me teach Granger. I  _killed_  two men."

"And it was declared self-defense."  
He shook his head, feeling familiar fear at the thought of leaving this cell and returning to the world outside.

"She won't want a murderer teaching children."  
"It won't be the first time Draco. Not to mention the fact that half the wizarding world could be classified as "murderers"… on both sides."

The Slytherin sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"You know for a fact that she still wants me as teacher?"  
Hermione beamed.

"Why else would I tell you something like that? And she's coming for tea two Mondays from now."  
"You've invited her for tea?"  
"I was hoping that she and your mother would get along. I think your mum's lonely."  
"How is mother?" he asked worriedly, wondering how she'd held up during the second trial in as many years.

Hermione took his arm and soothed him.

"She is doing well. Completely strung out, but still well. She almost had the guard's head when he told her that I was the only one allowed to see you until you were released. I managed to calm her down a bit."  
"You did well."

She smiled and dimpled, once again the apt pupil being complimented.

"I thought so anyway."

The veritaserum rushed through his body. He could feel it in his bones, in his skin. It was a dangerously powerful potion. He began to understand why Snape had always urged him to be more interested in Potions.

The frightening bulk that was Kingsley filled the doorway, dwarfing the large, wizard-made doors.

"Mr. Malfoy." He inclined his head. "Mrs. Malfoy, I would like to speak with your husband privately. If that is at all possible…"  
"Excuse me, I'm his  _wife..._ "  
Draco silenced her by taking her small hands into his much larger ones.

"It's alright, Granger; it won't be but a moment." His eyes glittered like a serpents. "And I promise - I'll give you all the details."

His tone was mildly bored and arrogant, an aristocrat.

She frowned deeply, looking reminiscent of the frizzy haired girl that he had loathed all throughout school.

"Please." he said, quietly.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged-

"I've lost you once already. I'm not into losing you so soon after we've reached a ceasefire."

She looked up into his eyes, which had softened; and were filled with something that made her feel quite giddy. A sigh escaped her lips, and she released the arm to which she had been clinging and allowed herself to be guided to the edge of the cot.

"I'll have Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley escort you out to wait in a more suitable office," said the Minister kindly, turning and sweeping out of the door with an eerie amount of presence.

Draco turned to follow, stopping suddenly as he was almost through the door. Leaning close to her frowning face, so that his lips almost brushed her ear.

"I love you, Hermione."  
The air was suddenly rather delicious to breathe, and she found that her heart overrode her mind. Her mouth fell open; no words came out.

Draco grinned at her roguishly

"Don't want to catch flies do you, Granger?" and he was gone.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was one of the few wizard-owned restaurants in London that offered private seating. Harry and Ron took her there immediately following her odd interview with her husband. They had noted her bemused expression, but had chosen not to remark upon it. Instead, they had both made the kind of small talk that would normally have driven her insane. Instead of telling them to go boil their heads, she had been completely aloof. Smiling vaguely into the distance and remaining in the best mood that they had ever seen her in. Draco had arrived later, escorted by the Minister himself. Kingsley had refused to stay simply replying that he had much business to attend to, and exchanging a few hasty words and nods with Harry.

"So, Mione," said Harry after a long moment of her quiet happiness. "How does it feel to be out of that bloody hospital."  
"Hey now." defended Ron eagerly. "It wasn't all bad, they let her have Muggle jelly when she asked for it."  
Hermione smiled gently as her old friends chattered in her ear. She was at home with them, so comfortable that she almost reverted to the Hogwarts section of her brain. Her husband sat across from her, the bruise on his cheek was beginning to fade, although he still looked ridiculously malnourished.

He looked up and caught her staring. She blushed and looked away.

"So when do you start as the Defense teacher?" asked Harry suddenly, interrupting Ron's flow of Quidditch scores. How the redhead had gone from jelly to Quidditch was part of the mystery that was Ronald Weasley

"The end of the month." he replied. "Beginning of the year. Or so says Granger. I still am not quite sure how she managed to get McGonagall to hire me."  
Hermione's eyebrows rose capriciously.

"A witch never reveals her secrets."  
"Maybe she confundo'd her." Said Ron wryly, Harry chuckled and Hermione looked as though she were going to curse them both.

"You didn't, did you?" asked the blond, somewhat unnerved by the Trio's reactions.

The boy-who-lived pushed his glasses up his nose and snorted

"I don't think that would work on McGoogles…"

Draco had sudden memories of the fiercely fair Head of Gryffindor house, and her extreme lack of sympathy towards cowards. She had struck fear into the heart of the boy ever since his first year. Even Snape had told him to steer clear of the Lioness, as she was very protective of her cubs.

" _Whereas the Snake will eat its young the first chance it gets, right sir?" a_ sked the cocky fourth year to his head of house

Snape had looked at him inscrutably; his dark eyes were fathomless as always.

" _Never doubt those whom you trust, Draco. Loyalty is something that you cannot buy, no matter what your father thinks."_ Those words had been sort of an afterthought, one of those few moments where Draco wondered how the Potion's master and his father had ever become friends.

Hermione laughed at something Ron said, Draco jumped, realizing that he had been daydreaming. Hermione was watching him out of the corner of her eye.  
"I still can't believe you're marrying Luna Lovegood," she said good-naturedly. "I mean, you were always terrified of her…"

He shrugged and grinned at them.

"We've just been together so much lately, you know with my job and all...and I dunno… we just started talking...and one thing led to another." His ears turned red as two of his friends gave him a look and Draco just cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean we started dating..." he retracted loudly. "I meant we started dating, you perverts."

* * *

January 15th

Draco arrived at the manor late again, he'd been tutoring a group of fifth years who were about to go loony with OWLS jitters. He smiled fondly at his own similar experience. He stayed up days in advance attempting to cram all the knowledge that he'd forgotten over the past 5 years into his head. As it sounds, it was a painful experience. Blaise was also slightly panicked, they had spent countless hours memorizing and rememorizing.

In the end, they'd both done exceptionally well.

His wife sat with her legs folded up underneath her, a book in her hands. She had fallen asleep at some point in her waiting for him to come home. His heart twinged lightly at the thought of her worrying about him. They'd been so… different since his incarceration. However, all attempts to further this attraction had been held off by her healings and his upcoming teaching position. This week had signaled her final treatments as St. Mungos. They said that her eye would always be that odd color, and would always react oddly to light, but her other physical injuries were healed. She had complained that she had a small limp, and he had told her surely that no one would notice if she didn't say anything.

His mind ran along these thoughts as he watched her sleep. There was a very distracting little wrinkle between her eyes as if she had fallen asleep thinking about something.

Draco felt suddenly emboldened. Slipping quietly across to his wife, leaning over her face he paused, thinking through this course of action. Coming to a decision he leaned closer and closer until…

Hermione awoke to her husband's lips moving gently across hers, she did not feel the urge to tense or move for her wand, in fact, she felt less threatened than at any time in her life. Hermione took a moment and then kissed him back, his gray eyes flew open and looked into her smiling brown and golden one.

Reflex caused him to pull back.

"I'm sorry to wake you." he said in a whisper, although he didn't know why.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't believe you can do that sort of thing without waking someone."  
A smirk covered his face. He had been somewhat more relaxed since the trial, as if some burden had fallen off of his shoulders.

"Well, I can leave and let you sleep if I was bothering you." he replied seriously.

She gripped his arm tightly. He was glad that she felt strong again. It had gnawed at him to feel her weak at his touch.

"Since when have you ever cared if you inconvenienced someone?" she asked teasingly, and his eyebrow rose at the lack of coldness in her tone.

"Well you see," he continued, sitting down next to her, tugging the book out of her grip and setting it on the other side of him. She eyed his action with interest and some loss at the sight of her book being taken away, but she sad nothing. "I was actually hoping that you would wake up..."  
"A-ha!" she crowed wryly and watched him smile at her relaxed antics. "Go on."

"As I was saying, I _was_  rather hoping that you would wake up, as I was wishing to continue a conversation that we started almost a year ago…"  
Her brow wrinkled as she thought back to the many conversations that they had had… with a fair few not being pleasant at all.

"It was in a restaurant…" he hinted.

The light dawned in the bright witches eyes, she colored slightly.

"And?"

His face remained serious.

"Well I was going to ask whether your opinion had changed over the past year."  
His eyes had gone slightly darker, like the color of the sea on a rainy day.

Hermione looked down at her hands, darting back up to his face.

"I would have to say yes it has."  
"Favorably?"  
She answered him by kissing him on the mouth.

"Well then, Granger…"

He was starting to feel a little breathless when she pulled away and smirked at him.

"But first… I have a few questions."

He had never imagined that Hermione Granger could purr… but she did.

Draco Malfoy attempted to calm himself and leaned back with faked nonchalance.

"Go on?"

"Why me?"  
The line that he had so far noted on her forehead appeared on his.

"Why you what?"

"Why did you choose me off the list?"  
"Ah…" He said, the superiority appearing in a smug grin on her face. " _That_  why…"  
"So?"

"You were a puzzle. You were the only girl in school that I didn't understand. Pansy liked me for my money and my name. And, I like to think… for my looks."

She rolled her eyes and he continued undaunted.

"You and Ginny. The only two who didn't give me the time of day - the only girls that didn't preen when I walked by or pretend that they didn't care when actually their actions proved that they cared."  
He laughed at her face and raised a hand.

"Yes I know… conceited and ridiculous and truly  _Slytherin_. But it was true… so I watched the two of you… if there was anything I learned from my father and from Snape was how to watch people and find their weaknesses. Ginny Weasley's weakness - Harry Potter. You - you I could never figure out. So I ignored you. I laughed at you. I mocked you. I ridiculed you and your friends and I moved on from my fascination. That was until this sodding marriage law reared its head. Your name was on it. And I convinced myself that you were the best candidate because there was no way that you would ever want to stay married to me, there was no way that  _I_ would want to stay married to you. Honestly. I just wanted to attempt to figure you out, to solve the enigma that was Hermione Granger, you were a game and a there was the possibility that I could relieve some of the hate that I was feeling for myself by treating you like an absolute berk." He shrugged. "Then I fell in love with you. And I suddenly realized that I had failed to understand you even further than I ever imagined. And in doing so… had possibly ruined my own happiness because I couldn't bear to think of that day that would come when you would no longer be here. In this house. With me." He smiled an uncomfortable smile. " _That's_ why I chose you."

"Good answer." she replied in a voice that was not her own. But before she could do anything further he was standing, and holding out his hand for her to grab onto.

"I realize that I promised to show you the library, and I never did."

* * *

He was right, the library was a place in which dreams were made. Countless shelves housed books that would have made any lover of literature fall into a happy stupor. Hermione Granger-Malfoy stood in the secret doorway, mouth hanging open, hands limp at her side.

"Do you like it?" he asked, as a child asks someone to whom he desperately wants to please.

She nodded soundlessly, unable to tear her eyes away from the wondrous sight.

He chuckled at her countenance and tenderly took her hand.

"You're allowed to go in, you know."

* * *

The young woman had never thought that she would be able to be torn away from Poe, especially a first edition Poe. However, after hours of reading and smiling at words that she had memorized years ago, she had looked across the cozy alcove set in a corner of the huge library and seen her husband, sound asleep. Mouth open, forehead resting on the table in front of him.

Her heart had suddenly leapt and she realized that she was smiling without realizing it. The witch cocked her head to one side and watched him sleep. The light in this room was perfect for reading, and it made him look like some sort of pale prince come down from the clouds.

Somehow, she had lost to this man, this  _enemy_ her heart. And she didn't want it back. It was safe with him as his heart was safe with her.

Draco found himself suddenly being kissed with such unfaltering intent that he was awake in a moment. His gray eyes flew open in surprise and sudden heat as she laughed into his mouth.

Hermione had hold on either side of his face, enticing him cruelly with her lips. They were lost in one another with no need to be found.

His hands were in her air as she began to kiss up his cheek and peruse his face with tongues and lips.

"I love you,Draco Malfoy," she lilted into his ear, unable to even recognize her own suddenly husky voice.

He froze instantly, his heart making his body unable to move, warm lips disengaged from their targets as he retreated and stared at her.

"What did you say?"  
The smile that lit her face was perhaps the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

"I."

She said and kissed him on the forehead.

"Love."

Continuing to the bridge of his ivory nose, feeling him tense beneath her.

"You."

He found a very seductive Gryffindor in his arms and at this moment she was doing exquisite things to him as she settled more deeply into his lap.

"Any more stupid questions?"

_Merlin's trousers, she's purring_

And he found that he had no more questions.


	9. Chapter 9

**December 25** **th** **…. Some years later….**

Hermione was fast asleep, enjoying the last vestiges of unconsciousness as her body went through the normal stages of waking up. A baby's cry reached her ears, she moaned.

"It's your turn," she slurred to the other side of the bed.

"I did it yesterday," said the deep drawling voice next to her ear.

"I birthed him." Hermione retorted

Another groan from his side, she felt cold feet travel up her left leg, followed by warm fingers, he tickled her sides and forced a very un-Hermionelike squeal out of her.

"Not fair…" He whispered, beginning to stir.

She chuckled and placed her foot against his back as he sat up in bed.

"MOM! DAD!" roared a small voice, a small voice directly in her ear. Hermione came up shouting, panicked she looked around, wand aimed at the dark corners of the room.

Her Lumos picked up a white blonde head peeking up over the edge of the bed. The eyes just barely could be seen.

"Finn, what have I told you about coming into mum and dad's room in the middle of the night?"

The honey colored eyes widened as that particular memory came whizzing back into his seven-year-old head.

"But mum," he hissed. "It's Christmas."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her head, lying back in bed.

"Told you it was a mistake to tell them about Christmas." The drawl echoed about the room.

Hermione turned to the blonde sitting to her right and frowned

"What were we supposed to do… tell them the entire world, except us celebrates Christmas?"

His gray eyes smiled at his tousled looking wife.

"I'm willing to try it."

They were both drawn back to the real world as they felt the covers being pulled off of them as their son attempted to heave himself up into the bed.

"Where's Maev?" She asked delicately, knowing that his twin couldn't be too far behind.

"Here mum!" Shouted another childish voice, a girl with long thick bushy brown hair was heaving herself alongside the blonde Finn.

A two more shapes emerged from the doorway,

"Dorian, will you get the stockings?" Hermione asked her eldest.

He could have been his father, tall, fair as starlight. High brow, lazy eyes.

The eyes. She smiled every time she saw them, one was gray, and one was yellow gold. They were startling and insolent. But she had a feeling that that was mostly because he was sixteen, and assumed that he knew everything.

He shrugged and slipped downstairs

"Osanna - give me Kale - we're going to open the stockings in here apparently, as it seems that these two," Hermione nodded to the two who were barely keeping reign on their excitement. "Can't wait much longer."

The oldest girl smiled and brought the baby - no longer crying - over to her mum and then proceeded to leap into the bed, and scoop Finn and Maev into her arms, wrestling them fiercely. Their screeches of laughter filled the room.

Draco heard a noise and whirled seizing what looked like thin air. A moan and then a chirp of laughter filled the air as the raven haired Elliot appeared where his father had grabbed.

"Boy..." Draco growled, "If I have to explain to the ministry one more time as to why you are using magic underage..."

Elliot grinned mischievously and jumped onto the bed.

Dorian reappeared a moment later, hands full of stockings, all brightly and obnoxiously colored.

"Found Grandmum." He said dryly, as Narcissa Malfoy stuck her graying head through the doorway, smiling at her grandchildren.

The twins immediately forced her to come sit between them, and began chattering ecstatically about what they were going to get for Christmas.

* * *

Hours later Draco and Hermione sat in the huge open hall next to the giant Christmas tree watching their children play with their new toys.

Narcissa, although much older now, laughed and played along with them, giggling and laughing with her grandchildren, following them about on hands and knees as they played.

Dorian was in his sixth year at Hogwarts- he was moody and messy and drew girls like flies. Hermione dreaded the day when he walked in the door with a girlfriend. He had taken a fancy to Muggle Motorbikes… Professor McGonagall had warned her that Sirius Black had been the same way. Hermione hadn't slept well since that conversation…

Osanna was fifteen, blonde and stunning, smart as a whip- she was hardly ever in trouble, except when she was caught snogging boys in the halls. Draco had almost had a conniption the first time that the headmistress had written to him about the oldest Potter boy and their Osanna making out in the Potions closet. She had gotten the howler of the century with that one…

Elliot was next, dark haired and gray eyed- he was rotten and brilliant; at the age of twelve he had mastered most spells that seventh years struggled with. Hermione worried about him blowing things up. Draco merely laughed. Something he had done far more often in the past years.

Then there were the twins. Finn and Maev. They were seven, which was often the only explanation that was needed. Complete opposites, and often terrors. The house of Malfoy was never quiet these days. She doubted that it ever would be.

Kale, the baby, was almost one- and he hadn't been expected. He was absolutely beautiful- blonde and blue eyed.

"Granger." he said into her ear, after Narcissa had led all six of the grandchildren outside for a snowball fight.

He hadn't called her that in years…

"Hmm?" She asked dozily, think fondly of her warm and comfortable feather bed upstairs that she had been so callously torn from by her children.

"Did you ever think that we could be happy together?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He had been teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts for many years now. The longest running DADA teacher since the rise of Voldemort. The students adored him, and respected him fiercely. Secretly, they all thought he was pretty cool because he had once been a Death Eater, though as of yet, no one had seen his dark mark. Mostly because he had taken to wearing long-sleeved black robes.

"No I didn't." She replied honestly. They both turned to look as a loud thunk was heard- a sheepish looking Narcissa was looking at a snow covered Dorian. The rest of the brood was laughing like banshees.

"Neither did I." He laughed, pulling her close and kissing her on the forehead- then again on the lips. "However, I was first to realize that it might actually be a possibility."  
Hermione snorted.

"So much for the brightest witch of her age." She retorted.

"It seems you're letting yourself go." He teased; his embraces were becoming longer now. Hermione giggled.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE, YOU TWO!"

They broke apart, finding Dorian and Elliot staring at them with twin looks of disgust.

"Can you keep your hands off each other for five minutes?" asked Elliot. He looked a little green about the gills.

"I mean really…" Said Dorian peevishly, they both zoomed upstairs talking disgustedly about their parents' disturbing behavior.

"Never thought I'd say this." The witch said irritably, looking up after her two sons. "But I think that I'm glad that Christmas holiday is almost over."  
"Same here." Draco agreed. "It's your fault though."

"How do you figure that?"

He shrugged, allowing the familiar Pureblood disdain to filter back into his voice.

"They say that Muggles breed like rabbits."  
She broke the kiss and punched him hard in the arm.

"OW!" He whined, "What was that for?"  
"Rabbits?" She asked, her eyes sparking lightly

"What- it's true!" He teased.

"Pureblood." She said.

"Muggle." He replied

"Git."  
"Know-it-all."  
"Death-Eater."

His eyes flashed at her insult

"Golden Trio." He mimed, rolling his eyes up into his head in sarcastic rapture.

"That was low." She warned him.

"You started it."

"Slytherin." She growled.

"Gryffindor." He hissed.

She kissed him.

* * *

Hours later, she yelled up the stairs.

"Hey! All of you - get clothes on- company's getting here in an hour or two."  
Heads peeked over and through the second floor railing.

"Who all's coming?" asked Elliot, who never paid attention.

Hermione sighed.

"Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Albus, James and Lily. Uncle Ron, Aunt Luna, and all of their children…" She left off; they had more than she did, and she could only remember the first few. She looked to Draco, who shrugged unhelpfully. "Blaise and Katie and their son…" She turned again to Draco. "Anyone else?"

"The Lupin boy."

"Oh yeah - Teddy and his grandmother are coming later on tonight, probably when Ron and Luna arrive."  
Narcissa laughed-

"Anyone else, Hermione?"  
Hermione laughed,

"Not that I can remember… but who knows."  
"Bloody muggles… always inviting the countryside out to the house."

She attempted to punch him again; he caught her arm and pulled her in for another kiss.

The audience began to gag and heckle in unison. All except for Osanna, who was already in her room primping for James Potter's eminent arrival.

He sighed and sat back down.  
"Six…" he mumbled. "What were we thinking."  
She sat next to him, hearing the flurry of footsteps above.

"We weren't thinking… that's what happened. No more romantic getaways for us…"

"Oh…" he looked a little guilty. "I've already scheduled us in Egypt for our anniversary, you know… to see the pyramids… I thought you always wanted to-"

She squealed and hugged him.

"Really?!"

He shrugged.

"Well it was going to be a surprise."  
"And everyone always says that seven is a lucky number…"  
Someone (Dorian) slammed a door upstairs and the baby began to cry.

"Your turn…" they said to one another, in unison.

* * *

In the end, their children tested for some of the highest magical aptitude in the wizarding world. Hermione, who had developed a terrible sense of irony over the last few years, had told Draco that she was sending a thank you letter to Dolores Umbridge. Her husband had bitten off an oath at the mention of the woman, realizing that the twins, although not listening, were in earshot. And they repeated everything. Honestly, Hermione was hoping that they wouldn't learn any new words until they reached the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Although, living with four teenagers and Draco Malfoy, it was a losing battle...

"Why the devil would we do that?" he asked a little bit more quietly.

She nodded her head towards their twins playing on the floor.

"I don't think that they would exist except for her meddling."

"All six of them," he added cheerfully.

"Or possibly seven…"

"Bloody..."

"Draco…" she waggled her eyebrows at him meaningfully and he raised his arms in defeat after staring at her belly for a long moment.

He seemed suddenly hit by the inspiration.

"You know the letter is probably a good idea."

* * *

Dolores Umbridge opened the elegantly scripted letter, a photograph fell out.

She seized it in her bird-like claws and peered at it through her rheumy eyes.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy waved up at her. Six other faces laughed and waved at the embittered old woman. She frowned and whipped the letter open. It looked as though Hermione may have gained some weight recently… maybe not.

It had only two words on it.

_Thank you._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco, Hermione, Dorian, Osanna, Elliot, Finn, Maev and Kale._

* * *

_Memory Taken from the mind of Kingsley Shacklebolt- Minister of Magic during the trial of Draco Malfoy._

"The court would like to know if you saved your wife, Ms. Hermione Malfoy, only to keep suspicion at bay and to keep her friends and family on your side."

"No I did not," says Draco unfeelingly  
"Yet you say that you did it for a selfish motive?"

"Yes I did." Again, without emotion.

"Then tell us, Mr. Malfoy, Why did you save your wife from the two attackers on that night?"

The accused looks suddenly uncomfortable, struggling to find the right words

"I've come to realize that I… couldn't bear to… live without her. I could not - I would not let those men hurt her anymore."

One of the questioners - who couldn't quite believe his ears - leaned over the rail and stared at the blond hard.

"Explain please."

Draco Malfoy looks up, the expression one of bored insolence, as if the answer is the most obvious thing that has ever been.

"I saved her because I love her."

* * *

~Fin~

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

**December 25th  
**

A knock sounded at the door.

It was later than they usually had guests. Draco whispered a protection spell around the twins still playing and looked up the stairs wishing that Hermione hadn't run with Osanna and Dorian to Harry's house to look at James' new motorcycle.

They knocked again.

With a sinking feeling he went for the door. It thundered again making him jump like he was 11 years old. Chiding himself for the momentary lapse he gripped his wand firmly in one hand and pulled open the heavy front door.

Who he saw, made him gasp.

"Get. out." He hissed venomously.  
It had been at least fifteen years since he'd last seen him. But those cold, imperious eyes would never  _ever_ change.

The visitor raised a hand in interruption but he had his wand upright first. Its glowing tip pointed at the intruder's form.

"Wait...Draco..."

The Lord of Malfoy Manor made to close the door, but a pale white hand seized the edge and held it just slightly open.

"Can we just talk?" The visitor asked plaintively; it was the pleading tone that stopped the door.

Draco had never heard the man speak with that tone. Ever.

The wind changed, whipping the rain into the sheltered alcove and blasting the two standing on opposite sides of the doorway.

Draco cursed himself for weakness and nodded. The intruder passed by and stood in the lighted atrium.

"Stay here." he ordered coldly, slipping back into the main living area and telling the twins to go play upstairs.

"Who are they?" asked the intruder, he had moved soundlessly into the living room, his gaze still sweeping over the large hall. Now full of familial things.

Draco managed to bridle his anger at being ignored, but kept the wand ready.

"My son and my daughter."

The intruder's eyes widened briefly.

"How man-"

"Six." Draco replied angrily, but with a touch of pride in his taught voice. "Possibly seven…"  
"Seven?" The voice was soft with surprise. "Who is the mother?"

Draco Malfoy's eyes hardened.

"You've been gone for this long, and you've never once wondered what happened to us? Never once looked to see what we've been doing? My  _God_ \- you are a far worse coward than I ever imagined."

The intruder looked as though he'd been slapped, and Draco saw how truly much he had aged.

"Then you stayed with the witch?"

Draco swore and rapped his wand against his leg in an attempt not to kill the man on the spot.

"Yes  _Father,_ I stayed with her."

Thunder rumbled ironically at this moment and lit the hall.

Draco's keen ears picked up a momentary hiss of shock coming from somewhere near the staircase. He sighed and looked in the direction of the noise.

"Elliot, you  _idiot_. Take off the cloak and go upstairs.  _Now._ "

There was something in his father's voice that caused Elliot to shrug his temporary invisibility cloak off, and stare at his father and the man standing in the doorway.

Lucius Malfoy stared at the boy on the stairs.

"Then he is…"  
"My second son." Draco replied darkly. "Elliot."  
He turned to the boy and ordered him upstairs again. This time, the boy obeyed.

The older man watched his grandson ascend, and then turned his eyes back on his own son who was staring at him with eyes filled with loathing.

"Then you have an heir?" Lucius asked quietly.

"I have  _six_ heirs, Father. My children will all inherit, I have not squandered their lives so easily as you did mine."  
"And Narcissa?" he asked softly.

Draco's gaze was merciless.

"She looked for you for years after you disappeared. She thinks that you're dead, as do the children. I, however, know better. I know that snakes and cowards may hide in holes the size of their heart, and yes, I love Hermione. And I am happy.  _We are_  happy. And if you attempt to ruin the happiness that we have fought for I will kill you myself as soundlessly and coldly as you trained me to be, do you understand?"

"You would kill your own father?" The elder Malfoy asked with false humor.

Draco shook his head.

"You are not my father. My father died years ago. Protecting what he had fought for, for so long. You sir, are an intruder. Get out of my house."

"What if I said that I've changed."  
Draco didn't flinch.

"I wouldn't believe you."  
Lucius lowered his eyes and shook his head. The gray-white shoulder length hair slapping wetly against his face.

"I deserved that."

This surprised Draco more than anything so far said,

"What?"  
Lucius looked up again.

"I have deserved everything you've said to me."

This, more than anything else made Draco pause, his light eyes examining the intruder that much more closely.

"Who  _are_ you?"

"Lucius Malfoy, former Death-Eater to the Dark Lord. Traitor, coward… I've done it all."  
"Why are you here?"

"I'm old. I wanted to see you again."  
"And apologize?"  
Lucius scoffed.

"You wouldn't accept my apology even if I gave it."  
Draco nodded.

"True."  
Lightning lit up the eerily similar faces.  
"Why?" the pale son asked with icy sincerity. "After all these years. No contact, no word. Why now?"

Lucius shook briefly, sitting down on the wooden chairs that were scattered about the large room.

"Foolishness most likely. I felt that I should talk to you at least once before I die."

"To explain yourself?"  
"No."  
"Are you dying soon?" Draco asked, face rigid and emotionless.

"No."  
"Then you needn't have come."

Wind howled around the old house. They remained silent.

Lucius shrugged and pulled his cloak closer on his shoulders, moving toward the door with carefully casual steps. His eyes said nothing.

Draco hardened his face and glared at the floor.

Several simultaneous cracks made both men pause and feel for their respective wands at the familiar sound.

"Draco, you should have seen the..." Hermione Malfoy - who after 5 children declared that she would never be surprised again - was speechless. The last time she had seen this man he had cursed her name and disappeared.

" _What have you done to my son?" he shouted at her, a panicking manic glint in his eyes._

Hermione hadn't known what he was talking about - they had argued for several minutes - until Lucius had head the front door open. He swore and Disapparated.

They hadn't seen him since then.

She turned from her husband to her father-in-law with a questioning look.

Osanna tugged gently on her mother's robe, whispering.

"Who is he, mum?"  
Draco took in his eldest son's glance and saw that the boy had an idea of whom their intruder was.

"He's no one." Draco said, overly loudly. "He's just leaving."

Lucius held his son's eyes for the briefest of instants, and Hermione's heart suddenly went out to the man who she had feared and loathed for so long.

Father and son had the same face when it came to sadness. Hermione found that she could resist neither of them.

"Draco..." she intoned quietly.

"No, Hermione." You could hear the cool fury in his voice, Hermione could also here the lack of surety in the hate. He was so torn. "He doesn't deserve it."

"I know." she whispered, moving forward and grasping her husband's icy hand. "But you know how worthwhile second chances can be,  _Draco_."

He turned and saw her, perhaps truly for the first time since they had arrived. His cold eyes softened at her quizzical eyebrows and wild, snow-littered hair.

Draco Malfoy dropped his head in response and nodded gently.

"Alright. He can stay the night. But, I can't make the decision when mum gets home."

Narcissa was staying over with Blaise and his family as she had known his mother since childhood.

Lucius was indeed shocked. His whole demeanor radiated wary surprise.

"But dad." Osanna said finally. "Who is he?"

Hermione smirked, amazed at how a smart girl could miss the family resemblance.  
Draco turned to his father and smiled grimly.

"This. Is your grandfather." In the quiet murmuring shock that followed Draco grasped his father by the arm and leaned to whisper in his ear.

"If you attempt to do anything other than what you're saying..."

"You'll kill me." his father finished. "Yes, I know, you've made that quite clear."  
"I learned from the best." Draco replied.

Then, despite the ominous drama that was going on, something drug them back down to reality and brought them together as a family.

The baby began to cry.

"Oh  _bollocks._ " Draco and Elliot hissed in unison.

"Watch your language."

Lucius and Hermione stared at one another in vague humor as they had reprimanded two different people.

Draco stuck his hands and his pockets and glared at the two of them, mouthing the word at his wife and father like a rebellious teenager.

"Haven't changed much, have you?" Lucius asked in amusement.

The latest Mrs. Malfoy rolled her eyes and seized her husband's hand comfortingly.

"You have no idea… Elliot..." she said as they moved towards the drawing room, shushing the baby gently. "No matter how quietly you say it I will  _always_ hear it."

* * *

**January 14th**

**Draco Malfoy- 17th year of teaching.**

"Please turn to page 394."

The class of seventh-years went silent at their teacher's voice. Draco Malfoy suddenly understood why his former teacher had loved doing that.

"Sir?"

The class know-it-all had already raised her hand.

"These aren't our regular books: this is about the second Wizard war…"  
He let the class murmur and talk briefly then raised a hand to quiet them.

"Yes I realize that. That's why I am telling you this."  
Another hand raised.

"Are you going to be teaching about the war that no one talks about?"  
He raised his eyes to heaven.

" _Obviously_."

Half the room tittered.

Another hand.

" _He's a Death-Eater - my dad says that..."  
_ "Yes." He interrupted loudly, quieting the class again. "I was a Death Eater, if you want proof." Draco pulled back his sleeve and watched their faces as the black mark struck as much ominous fear in their hearts as it did him. After a moment he closed the sleeve, pulling the curtain back down over that particular Act in his life.

"The reason that I am telling you this is because you are the first class that was not around or old enough to have experienced that war. Professor McGonagall asked me to speak to you all because she thought that you needed to know about this, from someone who experienced it. Professor Longbottom will also be speaking to you today. Regular classes will be suspended for seventh years this week, as you will have several guest speakers including the Auror Harry Potter," he went through several other names, watching the slight confusion on the childrens' faces. Harry Potter was well known for being an Auror, but other than that he had requested to stay out of the eye of the public.

Several years ago, he and Ginny had moved to the country to raise their kids in peace.

"Every year after this one, seventh years will be taught a class on the Second War, taught by those who experienced it," he said, after they quieted again. "I would like to tell you about  _my_  war."


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

The explosion rocked the house making the old windows rattle loudly in their frames and several doors slam.

Hermione swore more loudly and inventively than any of her children would ever imagine and stood up straight, feeling the weight in her stomach make her lower back complain loudly. The baby also apparently had been discomfited by the immense bang and stirred in her womb.

Despite the loud noise she smiled and rubbed her belly, feeling all the joys of motherhood whirl around her, driving her to an inner world of love and peace.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM"

Someone (one of her children she assumed) was screaming her name in a way that was less panicked and more irritated.

Most likely Osanna **.**  Being the only teenage girl in the house with a large group of Malfoy boys made any girl a little crazy.

Hermione sighed deeply and wondered what could have possibly made her want to be involved with seven children when a smirking face with gray eyes and white blonde hair swam into her mind's eye.

Oh right, that's why.

She knew where the boom had come from. There was really only one place. Narcissa was also out in the hall when Hermione got there,

staring concernedly at the cellar door as if attempting to decide whether or not to brave it. Once she caught sight of her daughter-in-law her frown of indecision turned into one of worry.

"Hermione dear - you shouldn't be out of bed - go back upstairs and  _rest,_ " she soothed, brushing her almost white hair out of her face.

Hermione would never get over how different Narcissa looked from the first time they had ever met. She was happy and plump as of late with laugh lines instead of dark circles and a swift adoration for her grandchildren and daughter-in-law.

Hermione waved away her words with an upraised hand and a steely gaze that only mothers have.

"The baby's been late for days now - going downstairs isn't going to hurt me - Besides..." she began with a glint of the embattled witch of the Second War in her eyes "Our Elliot's time has come."  
Narcissa grinned lightly and shook her head.

"I fear it's not just Elliot down there."  
Hermione's eyes narrowed, hoisting her maternity clothes more comfortably around her considerable bulk she seized the dark iron ring with purpose and descended into the dark.

* * *

Oddly enough, ever since that terrible night in the cellar she hadn't been plagued by terrors and memories of that nightmarish time long ago.

She heard a clamor of voices below, and the flames that lit the lower room guttered with shadow and movement. At the sound of her ponderous footsteps the voices went silent. Hermione allowed herself a grim smile.

The far wall was one immense scorch mark there were small bits of magical  _fyre_ licking up anything in the room that was flammable. She watched these with suspicion borne of working with magic all her life and nothing being too bad about it after all.

A metal table sat at the far end upturned with its flat top facing the scorched wall. It had mirror burns on its surface. Something snuffled in the far corner causing Hermione to raise her wand in defense bringing her mind back to a time when she and Harry and Ron and been sent after Dark Wizards immediately following the Second War, and another time before even Dorian had been born when the Minister himself had asked Draco and herself to go on a special liaison mission - but that was another story and she had other things on her mind.

The smoke smelled differently, and oddly familiar…

The baby kicked again causing Hermione to wince.

"Look," she said, her voice slightly less effective when it wobbled painfully. "I know you're back there so don't try hiding."

A black head appeared from behind the table long and stringy and just faintly greasy followed by a pair of amused gray eyes. Draco enjoyed the fact that he favored Severus - but the eyes - the eyes were all Malfoy.

"Hullo Mum." He said finally, as if they were just meeting in the hall.

"Don't you dare Hullo Mum me..."  
To her great shock two more heads popped up on either side of her second son. Three matching sets of eyes stared over the edge of the abused table with exact looks of guilt and guile.

Draco spoke first and had the gall to reprimand  _her_.

"Granger - I can't believe you came all the way down here in your condition - I mean honestly, muggle - think of the baby."

"I wouldn't  _have_ to come down here in my condition if someone hadn't  _blown up the basement!"  
_ Elliot decided to speak up.

"Well, mum, we didn't actually blow up the cellar."

Her eyes darted to the striating burns up the walls and the layer of soot blackening their faces.

"It's not what it looks like." Draco interjected.

A loud moan from the corner more like an animalistic wail than anything made her whip around as memories of their first year in Hogwarts flooded through.

That's when she noticed the bits of emerald green shell littering the floor.

"Please don't tell me that's what I think it is…"

Draco knew that she had figured it out - you didn't become the most brilliant witch in the Wizarding world on looks alone.

"Lucius brought us a dragon egg-" Elliot winced and Hermione heard a kick land behind the table.

The eldest Malfoy finally appeared completely from behind the table grimacing and shrugging.

"Good Morning Hermione." His voice was silky and beguiling, placating and pleasing.  
Three generations of Malfoy waited for the wrath of mum to descend.

Before all you-know-what could break loose there was a loud angry snap and a quick whoosh like a pilot light being lit. Hermione spun immediately.

" _Protego!"_

A crimson and green shield appeared between her and the fireball that had been issued from the dark corner.

Draco was there, standing slightly in front of her, hand in hers with his wand upraised.

"Are you alright?" He asked, with great concern on his face as he searched her eyes for any sign of pain.

"He's coming," she hissed, clenching her wand so tightly her knuckles showed white.

"No mum." Elliot laughed, venturing fro behind the table to see the damage that the deflected fireball had done. "It's a girl. We've named her Minerva." He smirked at his Grandfather who had told them to call him Lucius. "It was Lucius' idea."  
Hermione let out a half-strangled giggle and clung to her husband tightly.

"No." She said, clenching her belly as all the muscles in her body went rigid. "I mean.  _He's coming_." She repeated, nodding down at her belly, which had suddenly gone hard and slightly, pointed looking.

Draco's mouth fell open, as it had six times before.

"Are you sure?" he asked overly-loudly. She wondered if Ron had been giving him lessons.

"Quite," she replied. "My water just broke."  
All three men went whiter than she could ever have imagined.

"Oh bloody..." they said in unison.

"Not now please," she interrupted, pulling a wand in preparation for an Apparation.

"Or I'll end up who-knows-where."  
Draco let out a strangled laugh and steadied her.

"So mum, can we keep Minerva?"  
"If you tell Ms. McGonagall that you've named a Malfoy dragon after her, then you can keep her."  
As the faint crack of the apparition faded off into silence Elliot turned to his kindred spirit in slight expectation.

Lucius' eyebrows shot up past his hairline.

"Don't look at me. I'm not doing it."


End file.
